
DALRYMPLE 

A ROMANCE OF THE PRISON SHIP 


‘MARY' C. FRANCIS 




Class PZ^ 

Book 

GopyiightM 0 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
































































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Dairy mple 


A Romance of the British 
Prison Ship, The Jersey 


By 


MARY C. FRANCIS 

Author of “ A Son of Destiny ” — The Story of Andrew Jackson 



NEW YORK 

JAMES POTT & COMPANY 
1904 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

MAYJ19 1904 

Cooyrleht Entry 

r<\ 0 4- 

class ft- XXc. No. 

% & L 

COPY B 




Copyrighted, 1904, by 

JAMES POTT & COMPANY 




• 1 < 1 





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“The inextinguishable spark , 
which fires the souls of patriots” 

— Leonidas . 


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Contents 


L 

When We Meet Again 



5 

II. 

For the Right Cause . 



15 

III. 

Mr. Washington . 



25 

IV. 

Leave Hope Behind 



38 

V. 

A Flag of Truce . 



52 

VI. 

Alas ! We Have None ! 



6 7 

VII. 

A Good Example . 



77 

VIII. 

We are Wrong 



86 

IX. 

To Our Loved Ones 



105 

X. 

I Will Live ! ... 



122 

XI. 

There is no Way . 



139 

XII. 

At Army Headquarters 



154 

XIII. 

I Have Brought You a Gift. 



169 

XIV. 

Out of the Way . 



187 

XV. 

Now Let Me Go ! . 



195 

XVI. 

For the King’s Cause . 



211 

XVII. 

An Ungrateful Girl 



226 

XVIII. 

Not Your Wife, but Mine ! . 



241 

XIX. 

On the Field 



252 

XX. 

Not To-morrow — To-day 



260 

XXI. 

Dalrymple is Arrested 



268 

XXII. 

As a Friend 



279 


[ 3 ] 


Contents 


XXIII. Fly, Robert, Fly ! .... 288 

XXIV. For Her Sake 299 

XXV. With Our Army 315 

XXVI. Drive on! 331 

XXVII. It was Worth it 348 

Notes. (Appendix) .... 369 


[4] 


CHAPTER I 


r: 


When We Meet Again 

OBERT, you really ought to go now.” 

The young man intently watched the girl 
"as she drew out another long silken thread 
for the half finished pattern on her embroidery frame, 
and his eager eyes missed not a detail of the picture, 
the shapely figure in the tight-fitting waist, the soft 
ivory of the skin, the wealth of dark hair tinged with 
high lights in the sunshine, massed above the white, 
tempting nape of her neck as she bent over the frame ; 
the white hand and supple wrist. The eyes he could 
not see, for they were discreetly lowered under the 
long, curling lashes, but he knew them and their 
changing lights well. How often had they sparkled 
into his ! A swift, hot tingling swept him. He stooped 
and kissed her neck just where the waving hair es- 
caped it. 

With a cry the girl sprang to her feet, her face 
flaming and her eyes now plainly enough two gray 
disks starry with excitement that might have been 
partly anger. “ Robert ! Robert ! ” she cried, in a half 
stifled voice. “ Oh, how you frightened me ! What 
[ 5 ] 


Dalrymple 

if uncle should come ? What if he should find you 
here ? ” 

“ Hush, hush, Bess, not so loud ! Ton my word, a 
woman can make more noise than a field piece. Let 
him come if he wants to. I’m tired of this. I told 

him long ago just what I was going to do, and you ” 

he reached out his arms and drew her within them, 
“ you, Bess, you said that even if he didn’t consent 
you would ” 

“ Yes, yes, Kobert,” assented the girl, only half 
yielding to his caress, and anxiously watching the door, 
“when this dreadful war is over, or if Uncle Peter 
ever quits hating the Whigs so, or, or, if anything hap- 
pens so that ” she stopped abruptly, her color com- 

ing and going and her breath fluttering nervously. Be- 
witched by her beauty at that moment her captor 
would have defied single-handed all of Howe’s army 
that lay encamped on Staten Island. 

“ So that, what ? ” he asked in a low, even tone. 
“ So that, what, Elizabeth ? ” 

Unconsciously his hold on her had tightened. The 
girl struggled in real agitation now to free herself. 

“ Oh,” she almost sobbed. “ Oh, if he comes ! ” 

With a smothered exclamation in his throat the 
young fellow quickly released her and took one step 
backward with a lithe motion that spoke of strong, 
free muscles. The little shake that he gave himself 
[ 6 ] 


When We Meet Again 

seemed to release all his six feet of manhood that was 
encased in the soiled uniform of a lieutenant of the Con- 
tinental Army, and he stood looking at her with the 
one expression on his face that she feared. But she 
was looking down, flushed, alarmed, lovely, in her 
most provoking mood, and in silence Robert breathed 
profanity upon the one man who stood between him 
and this tantalizing prize. It was very still in the 
room, and the windows showed a fair, sunlit scene that 
spoke not of war or untoward love affairs. Around 
her lay the overturned embroidery frame, the tangled 
skeins of silk, the disordered work-basket, and in the 
chaos Mufti, the gray kitten, promptly proceeded to 
roll herself into a silken ball, unheeded by her mistress. 

“ Elizabeth ! ” 

No answer. 

“ Elizabeth, what does this mean ? If you fear your 
uncle more than you love me, we will have to come to 
another understanding. I have not seen you for 
months, and now, when the British are closing in upon 
us and no one knows what the result may be, I get 
away to see you, and you have scarcely been kind to 
me. Almost from the moment I entered the room you 
have spoken to me of going away. If you want to be 
rid of me ” 

“ Robert, oh, Robert ! ” Two great tears fell on the 
floor, but the upturned eyes looked steadfastly into 
[ 7 ] 


Dalrymple 

his. “ Oh, Robert, don’t say such cruel things. I told 
you that Uncle Peter had only gone to The Fields, and 
he may be back any moment. You know yourself 
what the result will be if he finds you here, and that is 
why I begged you to go. It is only for your safety, 
and not because I — I want you to go.” A pathetic 
break in the voice and fast falling tears would have 
impaired the beauty of some women, but Elizabeth 
Windham only succeeded in looking more dangerously 
lovely than ever. Robert Dalrymple was as impulsive 
in his wooing as his fighting, and it was not in his 
quick blood to tamely stand by and see a woman in 
tears. The entangled kitten barely escaped his impet- 
uous motion as he regained her in his arms, saying : 

“ Bess ! Bess ! Sweetheart ! Stop crying. Look at 
me. There, dear, I’ll go ; I’ll do anything you say, 
only don’t shed any tears. I don’t want them for my- 
self, and hang me if I’ll let you shed them for any 
other man. As for the result if your uncle should 

meet me ” He threw back his head and laughed, a 

free, hearty laugh. “ Old Peter Simpson, the worst 
hated Tory in Hew York. Lord ! how Putnam has 
it in for him for his conniving with Cunningham and 
Sproat. We’ll decorate a rope’s end with some of 
them yet.” 

He seemed to have become more patriotic than per- 
sonal, but he did not forget to gently caress her hair 
[ 8 ] 


When We Meet Again 

and to hold her as close to him as her maidenly re- 
serve would permit. She smiled sunnily, and he mar- 
veled again, as he always had, at the dimple that ap- 
peared at the corner of her mouth. 

“ Oh ! ” she said, restored to her usual sweetness, 
“if you had heard all the things Uncle Peter said not 
long ago when that man Hickey was hanged in Colonel 
Rutgers’ field for putting poison in General Washing- 
ton’s peas. He stamped around all day and said it 
ought to have been that Virginia farmer instead, and 
then he gave a dinner to a lot of men. I don’t know 
who all were here, but Governor Tryon was one, and I 
think they drank a good deal. Then, about midnight, 
there was an awful pounding on the knocker, and the 
Vigilance Committee called him down and gave him a 
paper saying that if he said any more such things about 
General W ashington he’d be given a bishop’s coat. O h ! 
imagine Uncle Peter in tar and feathers ! Wouldn’t 
it be too funny for anything ! ” 

“ Save the feathers of your best bed for it, Bess,” 
said the young man, heartily. “ He will defy Plato’s 
definition of man after he is dressed out in them. 
But, Bess, I didn’t come here to waste my time, and I 
have to be off, as you said. I must be at Richmond 
Hill by noon, to deliver dispatches to General Wash- 
ington, and after I leave you now it may be some time 
before I see you again. So kiss me good-bye, Sweet, 
[ 9 ] 


Dalrymple 

and — look up here, so See to it that none of these 

confounded red-coated officers who are so fond of 
our women come dangling around after you. A Whig 
is good enough even for the most beautiful woman in 
New York. Eh, Bess. ,, 

He had a brief combat with the round, warm arms 
that partly fought, partly embraced him, and then, 
from the safe vantage of his shoulder, Miss Windham, 
having apparently changed her mind, murmured: 
“ Oh, Bob, must you really go ? ” 

“ Yes, dear ; you know things are pretty serious for 
the cause nowadays, and every man is needed. 
Howe and Clinton are closing in around the city, and 
they have thirty thousand men against our eleven 
thousand, unless the new enlistments called for by the 
General give us a few more. And what with Gates’ 
jealousy, a pottering Congress, poverty, bickerings and 
desertions, God knows how His Excellency keeps up 
heart like he does. If that precious uncle of yours, 
and a lot more like him, weren’t in cahoots with Tryon 
to smuggle arms and ammunition up into Westchester 
County, some of us might rest easier. Bess, couldn’t 
you drop a gentle hint to the chairman of the Vigi- 
lance Committee about those feathers ? ’Pon my word, 
I’ve a mind to see the old sinner decked out in them.” 

“ Poor uncle,” sighed Elizabeth. “ I’m really sorry 
for him. He’s very fond of me, and he’s never the 
[ 10 ] 


When We Meet Again 

least bit cross except when something reminds him of 
you, and then he’s dreadful. He’s always reminding 
me that he came of the nobility, and talking about 
marrying me ‘ in my own station.’ I don’t dare to 

mention your name or let on in any way that I ” 

she stopped, blushed and affected a partial escape from 
his eager arms. For an instant only. He made her 
prisoner again and said, tenderly but anxiously : “ All 
I care for, darling, is what you say ; your promise, your 
words, not what all the Tory uncles in Hew York say. 
Tell me once more that you love me.” 

Whether Elizabeth whispered the desired statement 
in his ear or no not even the kitten could have heard, 
but Robert, with a triumphant air, exclaimed aloud : 
“ When we meet again, you shall be mine.” 

One moment they were lost in a lovers’ embrace, 
then the door on the opposite side of the room opened 
and a portly, well-conditioned man of between fifty 
and sixty entered with the unmistakable air of the 
master of the house. One long stride forward he took, 
then raised his stout walking stick threateningly and 
fairly bellowed : 

“ You ! You here again ! You damned Whig ! How 
dare you enter my house again after I forbade you ? 
Out ! Out ! Go on the instant, and mind you I’ve 
got enough influence to get you into jail if you show 
your face around here again. Get out ! Out ! ” He 
[»] 


Dalrymple 

pounded the floor with his cane, and turned to Eliza- 
beth. “And you, get to your room at once. I’ll 
teach you to philander with a damned ” 

“ Sir,” interrupted Robert, “ I am to blame, not Eliz- 
abeth, and I beg of you ” 

“ I’ll have no words with you, puppy. I’m master 
of my own household, and I’ll do as I please.” 

“ And I’m my own master,” cried Robert, “ and I 
take no orders from you. What’s more, Elizabeth 
won’t in another year when she’s of age, and I tell you 
again that I love her and have asked her to be my 
wife.” 

Peter Simpson, naturally rubicund, turned a fine 
purple. He leaned heavily on his stick and said, al- 
most as thickly as he sometimes spoke after dallying 
with his rare Burgundy: “You shall never marry 
her.” 

Robert saluted with deep disrespect. “ Your threat 
isn’t worth a wagon-load of Continental money,” he 
said, cheerfully. “ I’m sorry to deprive you of the 
pleasure of my company, but I’m on my way to Rich- 
mond Hill with news of the doings of you and some of 
your friends, and if all I hear is true we’ll need a good 
crop of hemp. I have the honor to bid you good-day. 
Good-bye, Bess.” He kissed the tips of his fingers to 
her, vaulted lightly through the low window and was 
gone. 


[ 12 ] 


When We Meet Again 

“ Uncle Peter,” gasped Elizabeth, the thumping of 
her heart evident through her bodice, “ indeed, he — he 
just stepped in for a minute to say good-bye be- 
fore ” 

“ Silence ! I’ll make it good-bye with a vengeance. 
What ! Are you no better than any baggage 
to ” 

He stopped suddenly, and Elizabeth was too agitated 
to note that his eyes had rested on the portrait that 
hung just back of her, the picture of his dead sister, 
whose only child was his ward and treasure. Both of 
her parents had died when she was but a baby, and 
Peter had made her his especial pride and joy. Never 
in all his anger did he ever forget that solemn promise 
he had made. He remembered it now. “ To your 
room,” he finished, abruptly. “ Wait, where is 
Amanda ? ” 

“ Cousin Amanda has gone over to Long Island for 
the day.” 

“ It's strange she didn’t tell me. You take advan- 
tage of our absence too much. Do as I bade you.” 

Only too glad to obey, the girl snatched the now 
thoroughly enmeshed kitten and fled to her own 
apartment. Throwing herself on the bed and laughing 
hysterically, she held the soft, gray little cat above 
her, shaking the tangled, multi-colored mass until the 
rainbow filaments flew in a cloud. 

[ 13 ] 


Dalrymple 

“ Ob, Mufti,” she laughed, with a sob in her voice, 
“ we’re both in a web, and I wonder if I’ll get 
out.” 

She sat up and diligently unwound the kitten. 


[• 4 ] 


CHAPTER II 


For the Right Cause 

T HEKE was apparently nothing but peace in 
sight when a few days later the master of the 
house sat after dinner with a single guest. It 
was a hot August day, but the mahogany of the din- 
ing-room, the simple but elegant heavy silver, the 
massive carved sideboard and embroidered draperies 
tempered the heat into a cool, reposeful seclusion. 
Peter Simpson was one of the wealthiest men in New 
York, and his home in Broad Street was in the heart 
of the then fashionable residence section of the city, 
and the daily afternoon promenade of belles and beaux 
on the aristocratic thoroughfare of the Battery was 
almost within a stone’s throw. The promenade had 
lacked its more prominent picturesque features for 
many weeks, for in addition to the fact that it was the 
heart of summer and many therefore out of town, the 
encampment of two armies near and in the city had 
tinged life and affairs with a military rather than a 
social aspect. As far north as The Fields, now City 
Hall Park, such homes as those of Peter Simpson ex- 
tended. Beyond that, where now the Palisades look 
[> 5 ] 


Dalrymple 

down on the modern castles of wealth, was such an 
irregular broken space as the imagination can scarcely 
picture to-day. 

The wooded heights of the Haarlem were nothing 
but virgin country, and where the teeming panorama 
of The Circle, sweeping across the great Fifty-ninth 
Street entrance to the park now dazzles the eye with 
its bewildering variety, there stretched instead a com- 
paratively open tract wherein a few weeks later a 
portion of the British army lay encamped. The 
treacherous Life Guardsman who had indeed at- 
tempted to poison Washington in the preceding June, 
as part of Try on’s infamous plot, had paid the penalty 
of his life in an open field just east of the Bowery. 
Even now, as host and guest sat opposite each other at 
the table, the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental 
Army sat in the library of Richmond Hill, at Charlton 
and Yarick Streets, where he had established his sum- 
mer headquarters. 

The cloth had been removed, and in the polished 
surface of the mahogany table was a faint reflection of 
slender cut glasses and mellow port wine. Ho cellars 
in the city were better stocked with choice private im- 
portation of wines than those of Peter Simpson, nor 
did he stint their use either for himself or his guests. 
The two were smoking, with occasional recourse to 
their glasses. They were attired as men of quality of 
[16] 


For the Right Cause 

the period in broadcloth coats, satin waistcoats, ruffled 
cambric shirts, black satin small clothes, silk stockings 
and low shoes with large silver buckles, while the wigs 
of each were properly dressed and powdered. 

“And as if this bombastic proclamation of Inde- 
pendence that they made a few weeks ago were not 
the limit of their folly,” Peter was saying, “ they must 
needs think of repulsing the King’s army with a beg- 
garly outfit of about one-third as many men, a pack of 
ragged rapscallions, with not even all of their officers 
in uniform, and about every other man-jack of them 
with nothing but an old blunderbuss without a bayo- 
net point. Faugh! What with their paper money, 
scarce good enough to kindle fires with, and their 
braggadocio of liberty, these rebels make me sick. 
’Tis well Howe has come. This petty rebellion will 
soon be at an end.” 

He lifted the decanter and refilled both glasses. 

“ Jove ! This wine is prime,” exclaimed his guest, 
with evident gusto. “ Peter, you have the best im- 
portation in Hew York.” The host gave a bland 
gesture, half pride, half dissent. 

“ If the brand of loyalty,” pursued his guest, “ were 
as good as your port, we should have no cause of 
complaint. But I suppose,” he laughed sardonically, 
“ that our fine rebels will soon be hurling the bullets 
they melted from the statue of King George at Howe’s 
[i7] 


Dalrymple 

men, provided they don’t run the other way. ‘ Melted 
majesty hurled at majesty ’ has an heroic sound, but 
damme if I don’t think they’ll be shooting their own 
men in the back.” 

“ And be good enough for them,” roared Peter. 
“There’s some I’d like to see daylight through, or 
squirming at the rope’s end.” 

“ Time ! Time ! It won’t be long now. Rebels 
hanged, though hanging’s too good for them ; estates 
escheated, Mr. Washington at the tail-end of a cart 
with the populace hooting after him ! Ay, there are 
good days and fine sights coming.” He reached for 
the decanter and added, “ And when they come you 
may be Mayor of Hew York. Here’s to you, Mr. 
Mayor, and may your administration be as good as 
your wine.” He set the glass down with a heavy 
emphasis. 

The host nodded his thanks blandly. That Mayor- 
alty bee had buzzed in his ear for many months, and 
the buzzing was music to him. Then leaning forward 
he said : “What is this I hear about Mr. Washington 
getting in a lot more of recruits by this last call he has 
sent out? I was told only this morning that ’tis 
like he may get as many men as Howe.” 

“ Pish, man ! ’Tis nonsense. A lot of raw farmers 
are dropping the plow for the blunderbuss in Connec- 
ticut and Massachusetts and hereabouts, but what of 
[IS] 


For the Right Cause 

it ? Awkward clouts, that trip over their own bay- 
onets and don’t know the ‘retreat’ from ‘forward, 
march,’ on the bugle. Like enough the only call they’ll 
need will be the ‘ retreat ’ at that. I’ve heard better 
news than yours, Peter. ’Tis that this Mr. Washing- 
ton is sick of the whole matter, and if that pottering 
lot of imbeciles who choose to call themselves the Con- 
gress displace him and make Gates the head of the 
rabble, so much the better for us.” 

“He has some damned impudent popinjays on his 
staff,” growled Peter, irrelevantly. 

“ Who ? Gates ? Oh ! ” The fumes of smoke and 
wine were thick, but gentlemen drank deeply in those 
days, and ’Squire John Elliott, one of the largest land- 
owners of Westchester County, looked carefully at 
Peter, with a shrewd, inquiring gaze. Then he said, 
with equal irrelevancy : “ Peter, do you know your 
niece is the most beautiful woman in Hew York?” 

“ She’s not an unlikely lass,” assented Peter. 

“ It would be a pity,” pursued Elliott, “ for such a 
lovely girl to throw herself away on some one not 
worthy of her. I’ve been keeping an eye on her for 
several years myself, and she’s bloomed from a little 
girl into an enchanting woman. She’s marriageable, 
Peter.” 

The host murmured deeply in his throat. 

“ Marriageable, and a lot of blades dancing attend- 
[ 19 ] 


Dalrymple 

ance on her, eh ! Good looks and a spruce wardrobe, 
and not enough gold to line their pockets with — these 
rebels.” 

“ But some of His Majesty’s officers have,” broke in 
Peter, loosening his tongue. “Colonel Rutherford 
caught sight of her the other day on the Battery, and 
was smitten with the first glance. He sent me letters 
of introduction and credentials at once and begged for a 
presentation without delay. The younger son of an 
Earl, Elliott, and certain to succeed to the title, be- 
cause his brother is partially paralyzed. Tryon has 
vouched for him to me, and I don’t see how Elizabeth 
could have a better ” 

“ Rutherford ! ” burst out Elliott. “ Why, man, are 
you demented ? I know the blade. One of the worst 
rakes in the service, a notorious debauchee. Why, a 
list of his amours would reach to the Haarlem. Seek- 
ing an introduction, forsooth ! Egad ! he must 
mean worse than usual to go through such a 
formality.” 

“ Elizabeth is my ward and under my protection, 
and no man shall have her without my consent,” said 
Peter, with an air of authority. 

“ And hers ? ” 

“ Damme, man ! Do you think I’m not master in 
my own house ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly. But even coy maidens have been 

[ 20 ] 


For the Right Cause 

known to escape out of windows on dark nights into 
the arms of willing lovers.” 

“Well, Elliott, it’s evident you’re willing enough, 
but I’ll take the chances on Elizabeth risking her neck 
out of a window for you. You’re not exactly what 
I’d call a Borneo.” Peter grinned pleasantly. 

“ Laugh if you like,” said Elliott, hotly, “ but I came 
here to-day to say something, and I’m going to say it, 
and that is that I’m ready to marry Elizabeth at any 
time.” 

A heavy laugh greeted him. 

“ You, Elliott ! You forget that you’re my age and 
a widower with a son nearer Elizabeth’s age. Why 
don’t you propose Paul for her instead ? ” 

A dark, angry flush rose under the sallow skin of 
his guest. 

“ Your age ! And what of that ? You’re not sweet 
on the widow Earle yourself, are you ? Yes, and she 
a full twenty years younger than you and a Whig at 
that. Oh, that goes home, does it? Well, I’m as fit 
for Elizabeth as you are for the widow Earle, and if 
you cry quits on that score I’ll go further and admit 
that neither of us is a saint. Be reasonable, Peter. 
The girl has to marry somebody, and an estate in 
Westchester, slaves, a chaise and pair, diamonds and 
silks are better for her than a reprobate Earl and bank- 
rupt strawberry leaves.” 

[ 21 ] 


D alrymple 

“ Rutherford will not be a bankrupt, and you know 
it. The estates are clear. I have spoken with Howe 
about it.” 

“Well, if he’s the richest peer in England he isn’t 
fit for Elizabeth,” said Elliott, virtuously. u And as 
for Howe, it’s the pot vouching for the kettle. Has 
His Lordship seen her yet ? ” 

“ Ho, but he has asked to do so, and I’ve invited him 
to dine with me on Tuesday expressly to meet her.” 

“ Egad ! ” fairly shouted Elliott, “ you’ve done it 
now. Even you won’t pretend you don’t know what 
Howe is. He’ll steal her under your very eyes.” 

“ There’ll be no stealing of my ward by any man,” 
said Peter, sternly, “ and I don’t mind telling you I’ll 
watch you as closely as Lord Howe, or Rutherford, 
or ” 

“ Or Robert Dalrymple,” added Elliott. 

Peter turned in his chair. The words he muttered 
between his teeth were never in the prayer book. 

“ I know of him,” pursued Elliot. “ Paul fell in 
with him some time since, and after the manner of 
young men he discovered his secret. Tell me the 
truth, Peter. Is she promised to him ? ” 

“ Hot by me.” 

“ But her own promise ? ” 

“ What of her own promise ? She’s not of age.” 

“ But she will be soon, and then you know, a woman 

[ 22 ] 


For the Right Cause 

set on having her own way about the man she wants 
is more difficult to manage than an unbroken filly. 
As for that jack-doodle of a Dalrymple, he’s one of 
Mr. Washington’s happy family, and from what I hear 
he’s the sort of hothead likely to make trouble in a 
love affair. You ought to get rid of him.” 

“ I got rid of him the other day,” growled Peter. 
“ I ordered him out of this house. I wish that Cun- 
ningham had him under lock and key.” 

“ Ah,” laughed the other, softly, “ one of those quiet 
little midnight parties he gives, when shutters are or- 
dered closed and there’s one less rebel in the morning, 
would be the very thing for young Lovelace. Given 
time and enough such parties, and there’d be no more 
rebellion.” 

“ Well,” said Peter, with a round oath, “ at least 
there’s no rebellion in my house. I won’t have it.” 

“ Well said,” heartily assented Elliott. “ And now, 
Peter, just tell me that you’ll drop a quiet word in the 
maid’s ear about my wooing, and w T e’ll drink 
to ” 

The door opened, and Elizabeth, a sweet and lovely 
vision in white, stood in the doorway, the ripeness of 
the sun lingering about her and the indefinable aroma 
of magnetic womanhood emanating from her. She 
seemed to fill the room with light and fragrance. 

“ Oh, Uncle Peter, I beg your pardon,” she said, 
[ 23 ] 


Dalrymple 

“ but a messenger from Lord Howe just brought this 
note, and I told him I’d hand it to you myself.” 

She gave him a letter. He broke the seal and read 
the few words it contained with evident pleasure, while 
Elliott improved the opportunity to bow low over her 
hand and murmur a compliment. 

“ Ah,” said Peter, suavely, “ my dear, you are hon- 
ored. Lord Howe accepts my invitation for next Tues- 
day to meet you, and sends you his most respectful 
compliments. We were just going to drink a toast, 
and you shall offer it. What say you ? ” 

He filled her glass with his most courtly air, and the 
two men, both standing and holding out their glasses 
to the beauty, listened. 

Elizabeth’s quick-beating heart felt her lover’s letter 
with each throb, where it lay concealed in her closely- 
laced bodice, and the pulsations hurried. 

“ My toast ! ” she said, smilingly. She made a dainty 
curtsey and said : “ Here’s to the men who are fight- 
ing for the right cause.” 


[24] 


CHAPTER III 


Mr. Washington 

T HE city was intolerably hot during August. 
The lines of demarcation between Whig and 
Tory daily grew more distinct, and both sides 
were preparing for the inevitable conflict. A general 
agitation had seized on all the inhabitants, and there 
were perpetual alarms, day and night. 

General Howe had several weeks previous sent his 
letter to “ Mr. Washington,” by Colonel Patterson, 
only to be informed by Col. Joseph Reed that he knew 
of no such person and therefore could not receive it. 
Later Howe had sent Patterson with a letter addressed 
to “ George Washington, Esq., etc., etc., etc.,” which 
the Adjutant-General explained implied everything in 
the way of a title, and therefore he hoped His Ex- 
cellency would accept the communication, as it was of 
the utmost importance. This time Washington him- 
self had received Howe’s messenger, in the Kennedy 
house, Ho. 1 Broadway, where in full military uniform 
his stately six feet and three inches towered imposingly 
above his officers about him, and he had informed Pat- 
terson that he could not receive a letter addressed to 

[25] 


Dalrymple 

him as a private person when it related to public 
affairs. 

After that the interview was polite and perfunctory. 
Colonel Patterson, at a disadvantage by reason of 
Washington’s attitude, explained with much diplo- 
matic courtesy that Lord Howe and his brother were 
clothed with great authority by the King, and that 
they desired above all to arrange the impending 
difficulties with the colonies peaceably and without 
bloodshed. 

Washington’s reply had not been reassuring. He 
told the Adjutant-General that as Lord Howe’s declara- 
tion, sent to the governors of Amboy under a flag of 
truce had been captured and published, it was public 
property, and that he understood the Howe brothers 
were only empowered to grant pardons. “ And since 
the people of the colonies,” he continued, “ have commit- 
ted no wrongs, we do not desire pardons. It is merely 
our intention to defend what we know to be our in- 
disputable rights.” 

Although fairly well equipped for his errand, Pat- 
terson became embarrassed under his outward com- 
posure. “ Your Excellency,” he said, “ your point of 
view opens a wide field for argument, and I am not 
prepared to take up the subject in all its bearings at 
this meeting. But I confess I feel much solicitude as 
to the word I shall have to bear to Lord Howe, 
[26] 


Mr . W ashington 

and I would not have our interview barren of re 
suits.” 

“I assure you, sir,” replied Washington, “ that no 
one can be more anxious to come to an agreement than 
myself, but though the word you bear may not be 
pleasing to His Lordship, I trust it will at least be sat- 
isfactory as defining our position.” 

At the end of an extended colloquy, which left both 
parties exactly where they had been at the beginning, 
Colonel Patterson had accepted the pressing invitation 
to stay to lunch, and being presented to all of Wash- 
ington’s staff officers the wine and refreshment of the 
table somewhat tempered the etiquette that had pre- 
vailed, and the conversation had touched on unofficial 
topics. 

When they rose from the table the Adjutant-General 
took his departure, prefacing it with many graceful 
thanks for the hospitality extended, and at the last 
moment as he stood before Washington, attended by 
Colonel Reed and young Webb, who were to take him 
down the harbor in their barge, he made a final at- 
tempt to win from the unbending chief some acknowl- 
edgment to carry to his superiors. “ Has Your Ex- 
cellency no commands to my Lord or General Howe ? ” 
he asked, anxiously. 

Washington looked at him with the cold self-posses- 
sion which impressed both friends and enemies, and 
[ 27 ] 


Dalrymple 

replied, calmly : “ None, sir, but my particular compli- 
ments to both of them.” 

Washington had left the city not long after this, 
first sending Mrs. Washington back to Mount Yernon 
under escort, and the Kennedy house was closed. 
There was general unrest among all classes, augmented 
by the fact that there was more sickness than usual, 
and an epidemic of typhoid fever was threatened. 
Both Whig and Tory families were going out of town, 
but, in a conference with Mrs. Fitzmorris who had 
come over from Philadelphia, Peter announced his de- 
termination of remaining. They were in the morning 
room, Mrs. Hardy, Mrs. Fitzmorris and Peter, and he 
had been informing the two women of the latest 
news. 

“ Amanda here,” he said, indicating Mrs. Hardy, 
“ has been frightened to within an inch of her life ever 
since the Phoenix and the Rose were fired on from 
the rebel batteries as they came down from the Nar- 
rows. Zounds ! Eliza, ’tis almost a pity you were not 
here with your hysterics too. You missed having a 
magnificent scare for nothing. Amanda went from 
one faint into another, and after I’d brought her out 
of half a dozen or so I went out into town between 
swoons and took a look around. ’Pon my word the 
populace was like so many beheaded chickens, the 
Bowery Koad jammed with shrieking women and chil- 
[28] 


Mr, Washington 

dren, most of them carrying bundles bigger than them- 
selves, and some sitting by overturned carts, wringing 
their hands and imploring the passers-by to help them 
to escape. I picked up a straw mattress for a little 
woman with three small children, and asked her what 
was the matter. She said that she was going to her 
sister’s in the country so that she and her children 
might escape being butchered. She was an especially 
helpless creature, and I jested at her fears to such 
good account that she actually consented to return to 
her little home. When I came back Amanda had 
three maids packing trunks, and was trying to get Joe 
to bur}^ the plate in the yard, and I had another siege. 
But with it all I must say I missed you, Eliza. For 
general fits you beat any woman I ever knew.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris, Elizabeth’s great-aunt, was a woman 
about ten years Peter’s senior, and she had been his 
particular target for so many years that his remarks 
were a matter of course. She ignored his last shaft 
and said : 

“ I don’t know what we’ll come to yet. If anything 
happens in Philadelphia I’ll come over here and have 
you take care of me.” 

“ Do, Eliza,” said Peter, fervently. 

“Yes; I’d feel safer with you than with any one 
else. Was Elizabeth frightened ?” 

“ Bess was the only one in the house who kept her 

[29] 


T)alrymple 

head. No nonsense about her. She was up in the 
garret with the spy-glass, and when the ships went by 
the city she was clever enough to guess that they were 
on their way out to greet the transport of the Admiral. 
There was another racket in the evening when we 
heard the firing from Staten Island, and what with 
horsemen galloping all over town, men running with 
torches and the streets filled with chaises we made a 
night of it.” 

“You know, Peter, ’tis said the rebels say the only 
way to keep the city from falling entirely into the 
King’s hands is to burn it, and you must admit that 
there is no doubt we really are in danger.” 

“ Amanda, why is it you cannot understand that we 
never were so well protected as now ? Anchored be- 
tween Sandy Hook and Staten Island are more ships 
than Philip II sent to England in 1588. His Majesty 
has sent about forty thousand men, including some 
eight thousand Hessians, and it is the intention of 
Lord Howe and the General to stamp out this in- 
surrection within sixty days. All we have to do is 
to stay here quietly and let the rebels run.” 

Mrs. Hardy was constitutionally funereal and, 
though timid, was also stubborn. She sighed and 
shook her head. 

“ Quietly ! To hear you talk, Peter, one would 
think that enough had not happened already to 
[30] 


Mr. W ashington 


frighten the whole city. And you forget too that 
many whom we had counted on for our side have 
gone over to the rebels. Look at Philip Yan Cort- 
landt, destroying a major’s commission sent him by 
Governor Tryon, and accepting the rank of colonel 
under Mr. Washington instead. And look at the 
Schuylers and the Livingstons, the Morrises and 
the Jays and scores of others whom one would have 
thought would be of us, all gone with the insurrection. 
’Tis more than the beggarly handful you try to make 
out, Peter. Many of the best and most aristocratic 
families have turned rebel.” 

“ So much the worse for them,” said Peter, angrily, 
for she had touched on a sore point. “ ’Twere well for 
them if their principles were as good as their blood. 
It will be all the same for them in the end, disgrace, 
confiscated estates, ruined fortunes. Ay, even if they 
were of the nobility, an exam pie would be made of them.” 

Mrs. Hardy’s colorless, uninflected voice went on as 
if she had not heard. “ As for the young men, they 
enlist with the rebels by companies and brigades. 
There are the Dalrymples, the father and two sons. 
They lived in Flatbush, not far from David Clarkson’s 
summer residence, and they have all gone over to Hew 
Brunswick in Jersey, and Mrs. Yan Horne and the 
girls went with them. Don’t you remember Mrs. 
Dalrymple, Eliza ? ” 


[31] 


T>alrymple 

“ Of course I do ; she was Sarah Folliott. She and 
my mother were in school together. I had lost sight 
of them.” 

“ They haven’t lost sight of us, at least Eobert hasn’t. 
He is in love with Elizabeth.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris cried out and turned on Peter. 
“ What ! Do you mean to say that you have per- 
mitted ? ” 

Mrs. Hardy broke in and continued, ticking off her 
words regularly : 

“ And Elizabeth is in love with him.” 

“ Under your eye, Peter ! ” gasped Mrs. Fitzmorris. 
“ I wouldn’t have believed it.” 

Of the two it were hard to tell which was the more 
worldly-wise. It would have been a toss-up between 
them any day to see which could the more surely ad- 
just a material advantage, and both were so fond of 
Elizabeth that she was the principal bone of contention 
between them. It had long been mutually agreed 
that she was to make a brilliant match, one worthy of 
her beauty and her natural gifts, and that she should be 
a society leader second to none. But, despite her pop- 
ularity, it had for some time been evident that Eliza- 
beth, with her spirits and her spontaneity, was not 
likely to make close calculations with ambition, 
and it was the secret fear of both that she might take 
matters into her own hands. The truth was that the 

[32] 


Mr. Washington 

sentiment between Robert and Elizabeth had grown 
under Peter’s observation so naturally that he did not 
know it until too late. Almost simultaneous then had 
been his discovery of their affection and of the adher- 
ence of the Dairy mples to what was known among the 
Tories as the rebel cause. Previous to that they had 
all been on friendly terms, but in the crucible of that 
formative period, men sometimes parted friends at 
night and crossed the street the next morning to avoid 
meeting ; sons went down the street and enlisted and 
came back to the paternal roof to be disinherited ; 
brothers were parted ; suspicions of disloyalty ramified 
through large family connections until they split in 
feuds. Robert’s frank and manly acknowledgment to 
Peter had only added fuel to the flame of his wrath 
because His Majesty had lost several useful adherents 
in the Dalrymples, and he had thus far succeeded in 
keeping the secret from Mrs. Fitzmorris, knowing 
what manner of condemnation she would mete out to 
him. 

He made the best of it now. “ It’s nothing but a 
temporary affair, Eliza,” he said, “ and it’s virtually 
over now. There’s nothing to fear from it. I took 
the matter in hand in good time and settled it. He is 
forbidden the house, and I laid down the law to Bess 
about it. She’ll do no marrying without my consent, 
and she knows it.” 


[ 33 ] 


Dalrymple 

Mrs. Fitzraorris did not look convinced. “ There’s 
been half a dozen elopements in Philadelphia lately,” 
she said, “ and all from the best families too. It is 
getting to be more and more the fashion for a girl to 
climb out of a window and go galloping away on 
horseback with her lover and a friend or two to the 
nearest parson. The last time I saw this young fel- 
low, about two years ago, he was getting hand- 
some. He’ll be comfortably well off some day I sup- 
pose.” 

“ How can he be comfortably well off when they’ve 
lost all they had ? ” asked Peter, testily. “ His Majesty’s 
men are already set up in Clarkson’s house, and they 
made short work of his imported wines in the cellars, 
and a company of Hessians are quartered in the Dal- 
rymple house. It’s true they own some property on 
the Bowery Road, but as they’ve gone over into Jer- 
sey they have probably seen the last of it.” 

" And are you sure that you have seen the last of 
the affair between Robert and Elizabeth?” asked 
Mrs. Fitzmorris. 

“ He was here only a few days ago,” said Mrs. 
Hardy. 

“ Yes, he was here, and he was ordered out by me,” 
said Peter. “ I sent Bess to her room and had a talk 
with her afterwards.” 

“ Well, between you, I must say you are managing 
[ 34 ] 


Mr. Washington 

things in first-rate style. You must have been very 
watchful, Amanda.” 

“ It happened I had gone to spend the day with the 
Yan Dusens over in Flatbush, and Peter was tempor- 
arily absent from the house, and Kobert boldly walked 
in in broad daylight and did his love-making. Per- 
haps even you might not have been able to prevent it, 
Eliza.” 

“ Well, it must be prevented in the future. It’s all 
very well to say that because a young fellow is for- 
bidden the house and the girl lectured, and all that 
kind of thing, that an affair is ended. For my part I 
don’t believe at all that it has had any other effect 
than to help matters along. But of course it will have 
to be stopped. It is all folly for a girl like Elizabeth, 
with a train of admirers, to think of throwing herself 
away.” 

“ You’re quite right, Eliza, and while you’re here I 
wish you’d take a hand in things and do all you can to 
bring the girl to a different mind,” said Peter. “ I 
suppose it might be as well for the present for you to 
affect not to know about Dalrymple.” 

“Oh, that’s easy enough. But she’s headstrong, 
Peter, you know it’s in the blood, and it may take 
more than mere argument to break off this unfortu- 
nate affair.” 

“ Yes, she’s headstrong, as you say, Eliza. She has 
[ 35 ] 


Dalrymple 

our blood in her, but she’s young, and she can be con- 
trolled.” 

“Were you controlled when you were young?” 
asked Mrs. Hardy. 

“ Probably more than you were,” replied Peter, for- 
getting his breeding in this comfortable family ex- 
change of courtesies. 

“I judge so by the result,” said Mrs. Hardy, signif- 
icantly. Mrs. Fitzmorris made the thorn-like crack- 
ling in her throat that always irritated Peter beyond 
endurance. He knew he was in a bad way if she 
laughed. 

“My dear Amanda,” he said, “you should remem- 
ber that I had not the advantage of your training and 
of your sex.” 

“ I’ll do what I can, Peter,” said Mrs. Fitzmorris. 
“ The most important part just now is to keep this 
young fellow from seeing her.” 

“ That’s all right. He’s out of the city, and if all 
goes well it will be a long time before any of the 
rebels who have left will venture to return.” He got 
up and saying: “ I’ll have just time to see De Lancey 
before dinner,” he left the room. The two women 
were in the full tide of a discussion of Elizabeth’s 
matrimonial future when the subject of their remarks 
entered, looking as fresh and sweet as a June rose. 
Her lovely and innocent aspect appealed strongly to 
[36] 


Mr. Washington 

Mrs. Fitzraorris’ commercial instincts. In deference 
to a long, sly look Mrs. Hardy left the room, and 
Elizabeth was alone with her great-aunt to battle as 
best she might against worldly interest with the world- 
old weapon of love. 


[ 37 ] 


CHAPTER IY 


Leave Hope Behind 

E ARLY on the morning of the twenty-seventh 
of August, 1776, a solitary horseman was riding 
rapidly towards the American lines on Long Is- 
land. The moon was almost full, and it was a clear, 
glorious summer night, the air warm and lambent, and 
rich earth-vapors rising from the crushed foliage under 
the horse’s hoofs. 

The rider was passing through the densely wooded 
hills that stretched between Brooklyn and the flat, 
open country beyond, and as he rode out from a dense 
shadow and stooped in the moonlight to tighten his 
saddle girth, his face could be plainly seen. Had 
Elizabeth Windham been there the horseman’s journey 
might have been interrupted for a few minutes by the 
dalliance of love, for it was the face of her lover. 

But at this hour, and on this mission, Robert thought 
not of the woman he loved, for peril to the cause was 
threatened and every hour brought the danger nearer. 
He had ridden away from Washington charged with 
final orders to Putnam, and even now the pale, serious 
face of the Commander-in-Chief appeared before his 

[38] 


Leave Hope Behind 

mind’s vision, and he seemed to hear again his parting 
words : “ And see to it that the Bedford and Jamaica 

passes are well guarded, for they will probably try to 
force an entrance through them.” 

Long Island bristled with bayonets. The British 
contemplated a coup de main, and with their powerful 
fleet and army, their fully equipped troops and expe- 
rienced generals, it was their intention to end the war 
with this one blow. Lord Howe had said at Halifax : 
“Peace will be made within ten days after my ar- 
rival.” More than fifteen thousand British troops 
were encamped on the western end of Long Island, 
under Clinton, Cornwallis and Howe, and regiments 
of the hated Hessians, under De Heister and Knyp- 
hausen, supported them. Howe’s ships of war in the 
bay had so terrified the inhabitants of Hew York City 
that many Whig families were fleeing to the country 
under cover of the night, while Tory leaders were 
banqueting in honor of the foe. Even while her lover 
proceeded on his errand, Elizabeth was wakened from 
slumber by echoes of the hilarity in her uncle’s dining- 
room. For a moment she lay looking at the shafts of 
moonlight that streamed in through the thin curtains, 
then rising she went to the window and, kneeling there 
a picture of purity in her white gown, she poured out 
her virgin soul in supplications for the safety of the 
man she loved and the triumph of the American cause. 

[ 39 ] 


Dalrymple 

Much did that cause need her prayers. Not more 
than some eight thousand men did Washington have 
on Long Island with which to encounter the trained 
soldiers of the King, for although many new troops 
had enlisted there had also been desertions by the 
wholesale, and some regiments had been decimated by 
the expiration of the term of enlistment. In addition, 
sickness had raged in the army all summer, and with 
the ill and wounded, the inefficient equipment of many 
troops and the necessary dispersion of the men over 
the land defenses from Brooklyn to the Haarlem, the 
Continental army had never needed the Lord of Hosts 
on their side more than at the present hour. 

Washington had in the field, as his generals, Put- 
nam, in chief command of Long Island ; Sullivan, Lord 
Stirling and a number of minor officers. On these and 
on the troops under them, depended the fate of the 
city of New York, for the report had been widely cir- 
culated that the British intended to ravage Long Is- 
land, burn New York and take their army to the 
retreat of the Highlands, whence they could communi- 
cate with Carleton on Lake Champlain and control the 
country. 

As Robert rode towards Putnam the rhythm of his 
horse’s hoofs wove into the sombre texture of his 
thoughts, until the regular cadence of the hoof-beats 
became like a deep minor chord, with the strophe and 
[ 40 ] 


Leave Hope Behind 

antistrophe of consciousness striving for the mastery, 
and ever a recurrent, haunting theme, elusive and sin- 
ister, that foreboded something he could not define, 
until he straightened himself in the saddle and struck 
the horse sharply with his whip from sheer irritation. 
Unused to such treatment, the animal leaped forward. 

“ There ! There ! ” said Robert, soothingly. “ Don’t 
be alarmed, old boy. I don’t like the looks of things, 
that’s all, but we’ll pull out all right.” 

At three o’clock that morning, in the last velvety 
darkness of the night before dawn, he stood before 
Putnam and delivered his message. The General had 
not slept for thirty-six hours, and by the flickering 
candle-light in his tent he looked pale and haggard. 

“ The passes are guarded as well as possible under 
the circumstances,” he said, briefly, “ but, great God, 
what can I do with a handful ! I could spare only 
about twenty-five hundred men for all the passes. 
Even our posts are about five miles apart in places, and 
I have no more men to detail for such duty. Does 
His Excellency think we have two men to every one 
of the British ? ” 

Robert opened his mouth to reply, but ere he could 
speak the sound of swift hoofs beating the earth out- 
side broke upon his ears, and on the instant, followed 
by two of Putnam’s staff, panting and anxious, a 
colonel of artillery flung himself into the tent and, 
[ 41 ] 


Dalrymple 

saluting, said: “Sir, the pickets at the lower pass, 
south of Greenwood, have been driven in and the Brit- 
ish are advancing.” 

“ Send Stirling to me,” said Putnam, hastily. 

As an aide departed, post-haste, Robert’s arm was 
caught and he was drawn to one side by a strong 
grasp. 

“ Robert ! You here ! ” 

“ Tallmadge ! I had not expected to see you.” 

“ It’s probably the devil’s own luck that I’m here, 
but there’ll be merry piping before we’re done with 
this night’s work, and we might as well see it 
through.” 

“ I was not ordered to return at once,” said Robert. 
“ Shall we go on together ? ” 

“By all means,” replied Tallmadge. “Listen to 
that ! ” 

There was a din of excitement throughout the camp, 
as Putnam’s orders were quickly delivered, and within 
the half hour the two men were riding towards the 
pass in company with the Maryland and Delaware 
troops, under Brigadier-General Lord Stirling to 
check the enemy. Morning was several hours ad- 
vanced when they were in position to fight, and until 
sundown of that fateful day the historic battle of Long 
Island raged. 

The result of the contest against such overwhelm- 
[ 42 ] 


Leave Hope Behind 

ing numbers might have been foreseen. Stirling 
found himself confronted with a large division of the 
British army under General Grant, while the whole 
force of the Continental army was disposed over a line 
fully five miles in extent, with odds of nearly three to 
one and Howe’s powerful ships of war in the bay to 
threaten. 

Robert and Tallmadge were early in the foremost 
of the fighting, but just before noon they became sep- 
arated. But, as they rode on in the early morning 
twilight of the day, they had conversed together. 

“ And how is Nathan ? ” Kobert had asked. 

“Hale is in New York, sick,” replied Tallmadge. 
“ He was fretting a few days ago when I saw him be- 
cause he was not fit for active service, but he’ll be 
heard from soon again.” 

“Surely,” said Robert. “He has the heart of a 
hero in him, and he will yet make a name for himself.” 
After a moment’s silence he added : “ It seems ages 
since we were frollicking in Yale, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Tallmadge. “Times like these can 
make even an unregenerate devil realize that ‘ a thou- 
sand years are as a day in His sight.’ ” 

“ Well,” responded Robert, more lightly : “ just so I 
never have to realize that a day is as a thousand years, 
like our unfortunate prisoners in the hands of the Brit- 
ish. Their prisons are hell-holes.” 

[ 43 ] 


Dalrymple 

It was when day had fairly broken and shafts of 
sunlight flashed through the wooded path that Tall- 
madge drew his horse a little nearer to Robert’s and 
said : “ It’s light enough for you to read this now, 
Rob. She slipped it to me on the Battery several days 
ago when her uncle was not looking.” He pressed a 
letter into Robert’s hand. 

The young man uttered an exclamation as Tall- 
madge rode forward and left him alone. When Rob- 
ert rejoined him again his face was softened but serious, 
and it was in a voice vibrant with feeling that he said : 

“ Tallmadge, they’re worth fighting for — our 
women.” 

“ Yes, they are, God bless them,” replied Tallmadge. 
They rode in silence for some time. 

When the heat of that noonday beat down upon 
them the two friends had not seen each other for 
hours. The unequal contest was raging hotly. The 
attack of the British was severe, and early in the day 
the troops on the American left, after suffering heavy 
losses, broke and fled towards the lines at Brooklyn, 
many being taken prisoners, and a number escaping 
into the woods. Sullivan, trapped between the burned 
bridge at Gowanus Creek cutting off his retreat, and 
a forest of bayonets in front, fought his way into a 
corn-field, where he was captured by a party of Ger- 
man grenadiers. 


[ 44 ] 


Leave Hope Behind 

Suffering from the excessive heat of the day, Robert 
found himself about noon near the commanding gen- 
eral, who was anxiously watching events from the 
only fortification he was able to man, the wooded 
height now known as Battle Hill, in Greenwood Cem- 
etery. Here two cannon, all he had, were mounted so 
as to command the road, and the left of his troops 
rested behind these guns. His right was almost on 
the Bay, and Colonel At Lee and Colonel Kiechlin 
commanded the centre. 

“ Sir, how goes it ? ” asked Robert. 

“ Badly, I fear,” replied Stirling. “ Colonel Kiech- 
lin has just sent me word that Sullivan has had des- 
perate fighting on Mount Prospect, and has lost many 
men. The Connecticut troops have burned the bridge, 
and my own men are almost the only ones left on the 
field that have not been thrown into confusion.” 

As he finished speaking an aide dashed up and nearly 
went over his horse’s head as he suddenly reined in 
and said : “ Sir, General Sullivan is taken prisoner, and 
his men have been cut to pieces by a bayonet charge 
under Clinton.” 

His last words were all but drowned in the roar of 
the cannon as they belched forth against the approach- 
ing troops in the roadway swept by the guns. The 
British had been gallantly held back by hard fighting 
as they made their way through the woods, but by 
[ 45 ] 


Dalrymple 

sheer force of superior numbers they had pushed ahead. 
As they came into sight they presented a brilliant ap- 
pearance in the green setting of the landscape ; the 
scarlet coats of Cornwallis’ favorite regiment, the flash- 
ing brass helmets of the Hessians, the black outfittings 
of the Royal Guards and the kilted plaids of the High- 
landers. As they emerged from a clearing in the 
woods and re-formed their lines beyond the road, it 
was evident that a sharp conflict was at hand, for 
Cornwallis himself, riding a magnificent charger, led 
the attack. 

The smoke of the guns had not died away when 
their volley was answered by the shriek of shells, and 
Stirling’s horse was shot under him. 

“ Take mine, sir,” said Robert, dismounting. “ Ho, 
do not hesitate, and do not expose yourself need- 
lessly.” His words were unheeded, for Stirling was 
already in the saddle and riding down the line in full 
range of the firing. A shell exploded a few feet away 
from Robert, and a young fellow threw up his arms and 
fell from his saddle. Robert ran to him. 

“ I’m done for,” gasped the man, the blood spurting 

from his mouth. “ Tell mother ” he choked, rolled 

over and la}' still. Robert gave one look, then leaped 
into the saddle and spurred after Stirling. 

For four hours one of the most spirited battles of 
the Revolution raged, and then Stirling’s gallant and 
[46] 


Leave Hope Behind 

stubborn resistance ended in defeat. His troops bore 
the brunt of the fighting that day, and they behaved 
with splendid spirit, but the odds were against them, 
and when word was brought that the main body of the 
British was approaching his flank and rear, Stirling 
gave the order to retreat. As the bugle sounded the 
fateful notes Bobert rode up to the General and said, 
“ Sir, the bridge is burning and the tide is rising. 
There is nothing open now but the creek, and a de- 
tachment of grenadiers coming down the Port Road 
will soon shut that off.” 

Stirling beckoned to Colonel At Lee, who came up 
and saluted. “ Where is Graham ? ” asked the General. 

“ Killed, sir.” 

“ Morton ? ” 

“ Wounded and taken prisoner.” 

“ Then go yourself and see to it that the Delaware 
troops and half the Maryland men retreat across the 
creek with the German and Hessian prisoners we have 
captured, and I will stay here with the rest of the 
troops and try to hold Cornwallis in check until we 
save as many as possible. Lose no time.” 

As the Colonel spurred away Robert said : “ I’ll 
stay with you, sir.” 

“ Ho ; go while you can,” replied Stirling. “ God 
knows if we can hold the creek long.” 

As he spoke a battalion of redcoats rushed out from 
[ 47 ] 


T>alrymple 

a wooded knoll, and with a shout closed in upon the 
General. Robert flung himself in front and warded 
off a sabre blow that threatened to cleave Stirling’s 
head. A company of Marylanders came on the run, 
and a fierce hand-to-hand contest ensued. In the thick 
of the fight Robert was early disarmed, and was left 
single-handed to engage his antagonists. Stout of 
limb and strong in wind, he fought like a young giant, 
and by virtue of his splendid physical strength saved 
himself, for some time. At last, exhausted, he found 
himself overpowered by numbers and was on the point 
of sinking when his would-be captors were scattered 
by a charge of light horse, and though he was almost 
brained by the trampling hoofs, he escaped and re- 
mounted. From that on the fighting was desperate, 
the gallant Marylanders who remained with Stirling 
giving battle with the courage of despair, for all knew 
now that the day was lost. The retreat had become a 
disorganized rout. The dead and dying strewed the 
field in every direction, and as successive British 
troops came up prisoners were taken in squads, and 
were driven back to the enemy’s lines at the point of 
the bayonet. 

Furious skirmishes, rather than regular fighting in 
battle array, characterized the entire engagement, and 
these irregular but bloody frays were redoubled as the 
American troops steadily covered their retreat to the 
[ 48 ] 


Leave Hope Behind 

creek and marsh. Every foot of ground was hotly 
contested, and the field was strewn with wlar’s terri- 
ble human debris as the Continentals continued to 
withdraw. The end came when Stirling had almost 
reached the creek himself, the troops who had re- 
mained with him having saved most of their comrades 
who had preceded them. Robert had not been far 
from him at any time, and when he found himself and 
the General unexpectedly surrounded by a cordon he 
desperately attempted to cut his way through. In 
vain. He saw Stirling unhorsed, felt a bullet cut his 
own right arm, and, as it dangled, he lifted his sword 
with his left and beat the flat of it so heavily on the 
head of a red-coated Colonel that he fell, but even as he 
would have run him through a Lieutenant felled him 
to the earth with the butt of his musket, and he rolled 
unconscious on the sward. 

Around his senseless form the strife continued ; the 
creek now a confused mass of horses and men, prison- 
ers, the dead, wounded and dying ; and the trampling 
of hoofs, the heartrending cries of the helpless as terri- 
fied and snorting horses trampled them in the mud, 
the hoarse shouting of commands, arose unheeded by 
him. The brave Stirling was a prisoner, and as De 
Heister, to whom he had surrendered, escorted him to 
the British lines and he saw Robert’s pale, upturned 
face, his eyes filled with tears and he averted his head. 

[ 49 ] 


Dalrymple 

How long Robert lay as one dead on the field he 
did not know for days. When he recovered conscious- 
ness a heavy rain was falling, but the cool drops felt 
refreshing on his hot cheeks. With the first move- 
ment he made sharp pains shot through him and every 
joint creaked in agony. 

“Lie still there,” growled a heavy voice, and the 
words were emphasized by a prod from a stout boot. 
A faint groan broke from Robert’s fevered lips, and 
his captor laughed. “Another white-livered rebel,” 
he said. Robert was dimly conscious of other white 
and drawn faces around him ; then he lapsed into in- 
sensibility again. For thirty-six hours after the battle 
the delirium of fever ravaged him ; then, on the even- 
ing of the second day, when he roused again, he heard 
the sound of oars and knew that they were on 
the water. They approached a huge, black, for- 
bidding hulk, and with oaths and kicks Robert and 
his unfortunate fellow prisoners were hustled on 
board and driven between decks so rapidly that 
he had no time in his dazed condition to know 
where they were or what vessel it was. Foul air 
and a scene of misery greeted him as he gazed 
around. 

“ Where am I ? ” he gasped, faintly. 

A man with benignant eyes, but haggard to a fear- 
ful degree, said kindly : 

[5o] 


Leave Hope Behind 

“ Cheer up, lad ; you are with friends, and God has 
not deserted us.” 

A laugh that chilled Eobert sounded in his ears, and 
he shrank away from the human wreck that plucked 
him by the sleeve, as he pointed up to the closed 
hatches. 

“Leave hope behind you,” he said. “This is the 
Jersey .” 


[5i] 


CHAPTEE V 


A Flag of Truce 

W ASHINGTON saw the last slaughter of the 
Continental troops from the fortifications on 
Brooklyn Heights, and the spectacle des- 
troyed his usual serenity and drew forth exclamations 
of grief. After being assured by the reports brought 
to him of the disposition of the British that New York 
City was not to be attacked, he had crossed the river 
and was on the scene of action at the last, and when 
the troops, caught in the trap between the two lines 
of the enemy that completely hemmed them in, were 
forced back and slowly fought their way over the 
creek and across the swamp ground to the river, the 
tense anxiety with which he had watched the action 
gave way and he cried out : “ My God ! What brave 
men must I lose to-day ! ” 

“ Sir,” said Mifflin, “ ’tis bad enough, but many are 
being spared. We will have enough to do to get away 
from here without losing more.” 

He was right. Had not the elements favored the 
Continentals after the sore loss of that battle the slug- 
gish Howe might have fallen upon them with even 

[52] 


A Flag of Truce 

worse result, but the exceedingly heavy rain that fell 
without intermission for about forty-eight hours after- 
wards was the salvation of the army. Howe, as ever, 
was indolent and inactive, and paid no attention to 
the urging of Cornwallis for another engagement, and 
Washington, knowing only too well that his men were 
in no condition for another encounter with the enemy, 
did the only thing possible under the circumstances 
and withdrew. On the evening of the second day, 
leaving camp-fires burning to deceive the British sen- 
tries, the Continental troops, defeated, worn out and 
soaked to the skin, silently retreated in the mud and 
darkness and crossed to New York. Mifflin, with six 
picked regiments to man the redoubt, was the last 
one, save Washington himself, to leave Brooklyn 
Heights, and on the thirtieth of August the East Kiver 
lay between the two armies. 

The days that elapsed before the memorable retreat 
to Haarlem were filled with anxious consultation. 
Washington’s chief generals and staff officers were a 
gallant company of men nearly all young, inexperi- 
enced and full of ardor and daring. Had not the Chief 
himself been the balance wheel nothing but disaster 
could have come to our arms. It is true that he lacked 
a certain magnetism, that his accomplishments were 
not evenly balanced in all directions, and that an 
almost stoical coldness usually veiled the heat of a tern- 
[ 53 ] 


Dalrymple 

perament that had furnace fires banked in its inner- 
most recesses, but with the prospective of time upon 
all of these things it is easy to understand that what- 
ever may be pointed out as a defect was in reality an 
element of strength that enabled him to command even 
the more influence. 

In reality, Washington was not less human than the 
youngest and most impulsive of his officers, and they 
all knew it, but he was the one man of the time who 
was by nature typical of the dignity of the unborn re- 
public, and Knox, who drank right well with him, 
Reed and Mifflin, who shared a liking for cards with 
him, Stirling who, like Washington, was passionately 
fond of a good horse, and all the rest of that martial 
band knew that no matter how good a comrade the 
Commander-in-Chief might be in his hours of relaxa- 
tion, no matter how intimately their likes and dislikes 
might touch, he was none the less their head and 
master. 

Most of them were quite young enough to listen to 
the voice of authority for several years more, for age 
had not chilled the blood of any. Greene was thirty- 
four and warm and impetuous by nature; Mifflin, 
about the same age, had good judgment and ability ; 
Knox, brave but inexperienced, was twenty-six and 
was in command of the artillery, with Alexander 
Hamilton, only nineteen, on his staff. Reed was 
[ 54 ] 


A Flag of Truce 

thirty-five, Sullivan thirty-six and Heath thirty-nine ; 
Parsons and Wadsworth were two fine young officers 
commanding Connecticut men; Scott and Spencer 
were in the forties ; Wolcott was about the only one 
who could be called a statesman, and he was fifty ; 
Stirling was the same age, and, with the exception of 
Washington, was the general of the finest military ap- 
pearance in the army. The handsome and graceful 
presence of the lamented Montgomery was already a 
tradition, where his brother officers had vied with each 
other in their admiration of his magnetic and winning 
manners, his social talents and his princely bearing. 
Since he had fallen there was no one to fill his place. 
Putnam was the oldest of the company ; he was fifty- 
six, experienced and cool-headed, and had for his aide- 
de-camp Aaron Burr, who had reached the mature age 
of twenty, the same as Aaron Ogden, while Nicholas 
Fish was the youngest of the striplings, a youth of 
eighteen. 

To Tallmadge had fallen the heavy task of sending 
word to Elizabeth of Robert’s capture and incarcera- 
tion. He did not dare to attempt to enter Peter’s 
house, and he did not see her, but as soon as the Con- 
tinentals were in New York he had contrived to have 
a letter reach her through her faithful maid, Julia. It 
happened that but a short time after she received the 
news Colonel Rutherford called. The young Brit- 
[ 55 ] 


Dalrymple 

ish officer had been entertained at Peter’s hospitable 
board only a few days before the battle, and the im- 
pression which had been made on him by his first view 
of Elizabeth’s beauty was greatly heightened by closer 
contact with her social graces and her womanly poise. 
His previous inquiries had informed him that another 
and a favored suitor was in the field, but he had wooed 
too many women successfully to pay more than passing 
attention to a rival. He was thoroughly determined 
to win her at any cost, and though he had flattered 
himself that the marriage yoke should never rest on 
his neck, he found himself inadvertently contemplating 
matrimony, the latter reflection possibly induced by 
Peter’s straightforward statement that he would let 
daylight through any man who sought his niece other- 
wise. 

"When he reached Peter’s house on a sunny Septem- 
ber evening he was apparently a suitor who might win 
the heart of any girl, a handsome and dashing man, 
well set off in his uniform. His self-confidence seemed 
to be justified. He was a favorite of Howe, and as one 
of his staff officers, was said to have considerable influ- 
ence. Peter, despite his violent opposition to Robert 
as Elizabeth’s lover, was so fond of her that her out- 
burst of grief on hearing the news of his confinement 
on the Jersey had shaken him considerably. In vain 
he tried to console her ; she had only given way to 

[56] 


A Flag of Truce 

fresh passion, and had wept in his arms until he felt as 
if he himself were on the verge of distraction. The 
previous night she had scarcely slept at all, and had 
moaned and tossed until morning, when she fell into a 
heavy sleep that lasted until nearly noon. When she 
rose she was calm but apathetic, and Peter noted with 
a heavy heart her paleness and the dark rings under 
her eyes. She took her place at the dinner table and 
resumed her usual household duties, but during the 
long afternoon she silently bent over her embroidery 
frame, and replied only in a brief and absent-minded 
manner to Peter’s attempts to draw her into conversa- 
tion. 

So, when Eutherford came, Peter greeted him 
gladly and engaged him privately before he saw Eliza- 
beth. “ So do all you can to quiet her,” he said at the 
last. “ I’m afraid the poor girl will be ill with all this 
worrying. Not but what I’m sure she’ll be sensible 
enough to get over this folly in the end, but still when 
a woman has her heart set on a man, why, it’s set for 
the time being, and that’s all there is to it. Bess is a 
fine girl, and though I’ve no use for this damned jack- 
anapes that’s been snooping around her, I can’t bear 
to see her cry. Egad, Eutherford, I always was a fool 
about a woman’s tears.” 

“ Your heart does you credit, sir,” replied Euther- 
ford, secretly laughing at Peter’s softness. “ I think 
[ 57 ] 


Dalrymple 

you need give yourself no uneasiness. This Mr. 
Dalrymple is safe enough for the present, and it isn’t 
so likely that he’ll get off the Jersey in a hurry.” 

“No, of course not, but that’s the rub. She’s fret- 
ting the life out of her for that very reason. I’m as 
weak as a baby, sir, trying to comfort her without 
cussing him and saying I’m glad that one more rebel’s 
taken care of. D’ye see it’s a hard situation for a man 
of my principles ? ” 

“ I do, sir, but it’s a situation that can be handled. 
I’ll tell Miss Elizabeth that it will probably be no time 
at all until her sweetheart is freed. ’Tis as easy to 
say that as anything, and as for the likelihood of it, 
why, that’s another matter.” 

“ Colonel, you’re a man of expedients. Damme, 
sir, I like your way. Go in there and talk with her, 
and earn my everlasting gratitude if you can put a 
stop to some of this weeping. Come this way first 
and have something.” He led the way to the dining- 
room and seated his guest. “ With matters the way 
they are one has more to think of than one renegade 
more or less. This city is not a safe place to live in 
while the rebels control it. We are at their mercy, 
sir, and this confusion worse confounded is as bad as 
waiting for the judgment day, with the streets full of 
people flying to the country, and half the King’s ad- 
herents with their coaches and horses standing before 
[ 58 ] 


A Flag of Truce 

their doors day and night. For my part I shall not 
stay here unless Howe takes possession. Do you know 
of His Lordship’s intentions ? ” 

“We are not yet informed, but it is more than likely 
that we shall enter and give Mr. Washington an op- 
portunity to retire to the hills above.” 

“Ah, he’ll be glad enough to retire, I’ll warrant. 
Good luck to you, Eutherford, with Elizabeth. Prom- 
ise to get that rascal off to-morrow if necessary.” 

An hour later Eutherford was taking his leave. 
Elizabeth’s cheeks were softly flushed, and in her soft 
eyes lay a sweet, tender expression that Euther- 
ford knew well was not for him, but he had made a 
bold move to gain an audience, and as her hand lay in 
his for a moment he felt that he had risked wisely. 

“ And I do assure you, Miss Windham,” he was say- 
ing, “ that you have distressed yourself quite unneces- 
sarily over these bogey tales of hardship, starvation, 
sickness, and all that sort of thing. Why, my dear 
young lady, prisoners are prisoners the world over, 
and they are not fed on ortolans and stuffed par- 
tridges.” 

“ Oh, Colonel Eutherford, you know that I am not 
so foolish as to think anything of the kind. It is not 

that — at least, that is not all. It is, it is ” Her 

voice trailed off into an uncertain note, and her eye- 
lids quivered. Eutherford felt her hand flutter, then 
[ 59 ] 


Dalrymple 

she withdrew it and he dared not take it again, much 
as he longed to do so. 

“ It is — what ? ” he asked. 

She was silent for fully a moment. Then she lifted 
her eyes and looked at him with a mournful direct- 
ness. u Have you ever been in prison ? ” she asked. 

“ I have not, and I count myself unfortunate if that 
is a merit in your eyes. I would be willing to go there 
at any time if I might have the honor of being the ob- 
ject of your solicitude.” 

“ You forget that Lieutenant Dalrymple is a pris- 
oner, not for my sake but for the sake of his country,” 
replied Elizabeth, her cheeks warmly reddened now, 
and her eyes lit by a brighter flame. Her directness 
was unexpected to Rutherford, who had not counted on 
such a reply, but he said quickly : “ Pardon me if I 
forgot, Miss Windham. I would tell you the reason 
why I forgot also if I dared, but I will not tax your 
forgiveness so far, even though I had the best rea- 
son in the world.” 

His voice was smooth, his manner insinuating and 
deferential. He noted a slight change in her attitude, 
and quickly followed up the advantage he knew he 
had obtained. “ Surely no man could promise more 
than I have to you. I have told you that I will at 
once look into the matter of Lieutenant Dairy m pie’s 
detention on the Jersey , and see that his case is taken 
[60] 


A Flag of Truce 

up through the proper channels as soon as possible. I 
have explained to you that it is impossible that I my- 
self should have anything to do with his exchange or 
with any detail of his life on board, but I shall bring 
to bear whatever influence I have in certain quarters, 
and in the meantime I beg of you to compose yourself 
and dismiss these silly stories about bad food and 
worse treatment from your mind. Miss Windham, 
may I hope to be made welcome again soon ?” 

“ My uncle’s friends are always welcome in his 
house.” 

“ And your friends, Miss Windham ? ” 

“ My friends ! My friends ! Ah, Colonel Ruther- 
ford, I have my friends, but never yet have I had one 
wearing the uniform you wear.” 

“ Then why not let me be the first ? Is the color of 
a man’s coat the sign of his morality, his char- 
acter ? ” 

“ While this war lasts it is a sign of his loyalty, and 
my friends are those who are fighting for our rights, 
for our principles. You are not on the right side, 
Colonel Rutherford.” 

“ If I am wrong you can teach me better. Surely 
you must admit it is not my fault that your tea is taxed. 
Come, Miss Windham, you are a stanch and loyal 
Whig, and I am an humble servant of His Majesty, 
and this war will not be fought out by either you or 
[61] 


Dalrymple 

me, so let us cry quits to hostility, and be amiable 
friends under a flag of truce.” 

“ Fighting does not continue under a flag of truce, 
and you will be fighting, while I, as a woman, will be 
at home. You see one of us is a soldier and the other 
a non-combatant.” 

“ I will surrender myself a prisoner at any time you 
say the word,” replied Rutherford. He had moved a 
step nearer her and was looking straight down into 
her eyes. His tone and manner left no doubt of the 
intensity with which the words were uttered. But 
one word in the sentence had struck the tense chord 
in Elizabeth’s heart, and it vibrated painfully as she 
replied : “ Sir, there are too many prisoners now.” 

The sadness of her tone went home even to Ruther- 
ford’s inner consciousness, and with a sincerity that a 
moment later astonished him he said : “ There shall be 
one less if I can bring it about.” He bowed low over 
her hand, murmured an adieu and was gone before he 
fully realized what he had said. Then he laughed to 
himself, and inwardly swore that Robert Dalrymple 
should never leave the Jersey alive. 

A little more than a week from that day Washing- 
ton’s army was moving to the Haarlem, and so closely 
did Howe’s troops follow that the Continentals were 
scarcely out of sight before the redcoats entered the 
city they were to occupy for more than seven years. 

[62] 


A Flag of Truce 

Washington was compelled to evacuate, for Howe at 
last was crossing the East River, and before he could 
effect the landing of his entire forces the ragged 
Americans quietly marched northward to the hills, as 
Peter had predicted. It was one of the most pictur- 
esque and most pathetic sights ever written in history, 
and the accounts left of it fire the imagination beyond 
words. 

New York City was then but a straggling town. 
Murray Hill, the Incleburg, was three miles from the 
city limits, and there were country places along the 
East River as far north as the streets of the seventies. 
In that wide, expanding Y-shape stretching between 
the two rivers beyond The Fields there gradually 
spread out forests and broken areas whose tangled 
paths and hidden recesses were known only to experi- 
enced guides. Westward to the Hudson the forest 
thickened, and there was but one good cross road on the 
island in the upper part, leading diagonally to the fa- 
mous Apthorpe house, at Ninety-first Street. But it 
was necessary to go much farther in the hills of the 
Haarlem than what is now Ninety-first Street, and 
routes and paths were eagerly discussed, and, strangely 
enough, almost with acrimony. When under cover of 
the night and as silently as possible the troops wended 
their way in the darkness through the woods they 
made a strange, parti-colored multitude. Theirs was a 

m 


Dalrymple 

motley garb, for the poverty of the patriots was very 
great. There were Marylanders in green hunting 
shirts with leggins. In Connecticut old red coats that 
had been used in the French wars had been taken from 
their retirement in the garret and made to do duty 
with low breeches and triangular laced hats. Dela- 
ware troops were in dark blue coats with red facings ; 
Jersey riflemen tramped through the mud in short red 
coats and striped trousers, while others of their own 
men trudged by them in short blue coats, old leather 
breeches, light blue stockings, shoes with brass buckles 
and hats bound in yellow, and had it not been for their 
rifles they might have been taken for a band of coun- 
trymen in town on a market holiday. 

The Pennsylvania regiments were in all the colors of 
the rainbow. They wore brown coats faced with buff, 
blue coats faced with red, brown coats faced with 
white and studded with great pewter buttons ; buck- 
skin breeches and black cocked hats with white tape 
bindings. Truth to tell, some companies were without 
coats, and the men had but one shirt and that so scant 
of cloth that they had been nicknamed “ the shoddy 
shirts” by the Virginians who were quite the dandies 
of the army in white smock-frocks, furbelowed with 
ruffles at the neck, elbows and wrists, black stocks, hair 
in queues, and round-topped, broad-brimmed black 
hats. 


[64] 


A Flag of Truce 

Later the Light Dragoons were uniformed in blue 
coats faced with red or brown coats faced with green. 
Washington’s guards had a handsome uniform of blue 
coats faced with the Continental buff, red waistcoats, 
buckskin breeches, black felt hats bound with red tape, 
and bayonet and body-belt of white. The green hunt- 
ing shirts were “ the mortal aversion of the redcoats.” 
The British hated the sight of them, and they were 
seen everywhere, with breeches of the same cloth 
bound gaiter fashion about the legs. And so this 
strangely attired army retreated through the forests of 
New York City, searched in the darkness for paths 
where now great avenues roll northward, dragged 
cannon through the mire of Fifth Avenue, broke away 
branches of trees as their horses poked their noses 
ahead in the thicket where Grant’s tomb now stands, 
and all along the way where great towering modern 
apartment houses glitter at night, up the Broadway 
that is a river of light from dusk to long after mid- 
night, up through marshes now crowned by the palaces 
of wealth, Washington’s army slowly and with diffi- 
culty withdrew before the British, feeling a way 
through the forest by the light of the stars. Of the 
guides who chose routes, Aaron Burr was one of the 
best. He was good in obscure ways then and later, 
and he was of decided assistance in piloting the troops 
through the woods. 


[ 65 ] 


Dalrymple 

Putnam was the last to leave. And surely every 
one knows how that loyal and most excellent woman, 
Mrs. Kobert Murray, whose loyalty was even better 
than the grammar of her famous ^on, Lindley Mur- 
ray, detained Clinton, Howe, Tryon and their staffs 
with her wine and wit and jesting conversation until 
General Putnam got all his men by, passing her house 
not two miles away ! Had she not done so a large 
force of Hessians and British would have cut off their 
retreat and captured his command. It is well a say- 
ing in history that she saved that part of the army. 
And ’tis scarcely a miracle, for when a man looks over 
a wine glass into a woman’s eyes he can forget more 
than his enemies. 


[ 66 ] 


CHAPTER VI 

Alas ! We Have None 


ATE in September Washington sat alone one 



^morning in the library of the house of Col. 


1 — * Roger Morris, his old friend and comrade on 
the field of the Monongahela. He was in undress uni- 
form, and his features wore their usual serene and im- 
passive expression, but his soul was sick within him, 
for although the skilful retreat he had conducted after 
the battle of Long Island remains the admiration of 
military men to this day, enough had happened since 
to test the quality of any one. The Continentals were 
encamped on the heights of the Haarlem, and Hew 
York City was in the hands of the British. 

The air was warm and wine-like, but its fragrance 
was unheeded by Washington as he gazed out of the 
window towards the Hudson, where a blue haze hov- 
ered over the Jersey hills. The table before him was 
covered with maps, papers, letters and memoranda, and 
the purport of their information, meagre as it was, had 
deepened his anxiety for the cause. 

He was aroused from his thoughts by the entrance 
of his orderly, who said : “Your Excellency, a young 
lady is without who wishes to see you.” 


m 


Dalrymple 

“ It is impossible. Give her my excuses. My orders 
are imperative to-day to see no one except the names 
I have given you.” 

The orderly withdrew. Washington, who had not 
moved or turned his head, faced a newcomer quickly 
and with a look of surprise, for it was Tallmadge, who, 
saluting at a respectful distance, said : “ General, I 
beg pardon for violating your orders, but the lady who 
wishes to see you is Miss Windham. Her betrothed, 
Lieutenant Dalrymple, saved General Stirling’s life at 
the battle, and he was captured and made prisoner on 
board, the Jersey. Nathan spoke of him the night be- 
fore ” His voice shook. 

Washington’s face changed. “Show her in,” he 
said. 

Elizabeth had wept much in these unhappy weeks, 
but at seventeen even tears are not fatal to beauty 
housed in a strong body and reinforced by a spirit im- 
possible to break. The stolen visit to Washington, 
under Tallmadge’s escort, the excitement of the meet- 
ing and the agitation caused by her mission, sent the 
blood to her cheeks and kindled a brighter flame in her 
eyes. She curtsied deeply, the roses in her face man- 
tling and little waves of her dark hair tumbling about 
her white neck. Washington never viewed feminine 
loveliness unmoved, and, deeply touched by her 
charms, he took her hand in both of his and said: 

[ 68 ] 


Alas ! We Have None 


“ My dear young lady, pray have this chair and be 
comfortable. I have the honor of addressing Miss 
Windham, who is a friend to our cause, and I shall 
not make you a prisoner, but ” — he smiled, “ if you 
will exchange your uncle for yourself, I promise to 
keep him within our lines indefinitely.” 

“ Oh, sir ! ” cried Elizabeth, her voice vibrating with 
painful emotion, “ I know that my uncle is your enemy 
and aids the foe, but though I cannot give him up to 
you I am willing to be a prisoner myself if only my — 
if Lieutenant Dalrymple can be exchanged. He is a 
prisoner on board the Jersey , and I have heard what 
his life there is.” She shuddered and pressed her 
hands together. “Oh, General Washington, I beg of 
you to have him released. Surely you can do it. He 
is my promised husband, and I” — she colored fu- 
riously but held her head high and looked him squarely 
in the eye, “ I love him. He is all the world to me. 
Sir, I entreat you to have him exchanged.” She leaned 
forward with a look in her blue-gray eyes that might 
have moved a stone. 

Her radiant youth and grace and the passion and 
pathos of her plea, struck on Washington’s melancholy 
mood like a blow on the tenderest spot. He felt his 
eyes blur as he said gravely: “My dear Miss Wind- 
ham, if it were in my power to release our brave men 
in the British prisons I should not have waited for 

[69] 


Dalrymple 

your appeal to do so, and neither your lover nor any 
other man should remain a prisoner for one hour. But 
I am no more able to do this than any private in the 
ranks. Sad as it is for you, and unwilling as I am to 
tell you, I am compelled to say that our men in the 
hands of the British are beyond my power.” 

“ But I do not mean all of the men,” said Elizabeth, 
bewildered and innocent. “ I am afraid you will think 
me w selfish, General Washington, but if you could just 
get Bobert exchanged ” She paused expectantly. 

“ That is just what I am explaining to you I cannot 
do,” said Washington, patiently. “ It would give me 
the greatest happiness to restore your sweetheart to 
you, but I am greatly grieved that I cannot do so.” 

Elizabeth’s wide-eyed gaze fastened on him with in- 
creasing terror. 

“ But,” she gasped, the breath fluttering brokenly 
through her trembling lips, “ but, sir, you do not mean 
that you can’t get Robert out ? Not one man ? ” 

Washington bowed with grave finality. The girl 
gave one wild look around, as though seeking for the 
succor she was denied, and then fell back in her chair 
with a bitter cry that pierced Tallmadge’s ears on the 
other side of the door and made him start anxiously. 
Every nerve in Washington’s sensitive nature throbbed 
in sympathy, but he spoke in a calm, even tone : 

“Miss Windham, you are a brave girl and well 

[70] 


Alas ! IV e Have None 

worthy of the noble young fellow whom you honor 
with your love. As the Commander-in-Chief of the 
army, I wish to assure you that on you, and on such 
women as you, not less than on our troops, I rely for 
the success of our cause. We wish to save our be- 
loved country for our homes and firesides, and when 
our men die on the battle-field, in loathsome prisons, 
or otherwise” — his voice changed — “it is our duty, 
yours and mine, to bear the loss with all the fortitude 
we can summon, for the end is not yet.” 

“ Our homes and families ! ” sobbed Elizabeth, sorely 
wounded by this Spartan philosophy. “ Sir, will there 
be any homes and families if all our men perish 
miserably ? ” 

“ God will take care of that,” said Washington, 
almost sternly. “ He will not permit us as a nation 
to be crushed. We shall survive as a people. And, 
Miss Windham, do you believe yourself to be the only 
maiden in New York grieving for an imprisoned 
lover? Do you know how many of our men the 
British hold as prisoners? They captured about 
twelve hundred at the battle of Long Island, and 
these, with our losses since and the men they held be- 
fore, make between four and five thousand men they 
have. They hold the city of Hew York in their 
hands, and virtually control the situation. Many 
such appeals as yours have I listened to. Only yes- 

[71] 


Dalrymple 

terday a poor woman knelt at my feet in this very 
room and with sobs and tears entreated me to get her 
husband, the father of her five children, off of the 
Jersey. I could do no more for her than for you. My 
remonstrances to the British officers are met with de- 
tailed statements that no cruelty is used, that every 
possible attention is given to the comfort of the pris- 
oners and that their food is of the best. Not an hour 
before you came in I received a letter from Cunning- 
ham ” — he pointed to some loose sheets on the table — 
“protesting against the reports of his barbarities. 
Madam, I am helpless.” He finished bitterly. 

“ Sir,” said Elizabeth, stirred by a deep, altruistic 
emotion, “ I regret that I have added one pang to your 
overburdened heart. I am not so selfish that all my 
sorrow is for myself and none for others. But, Gen- 
eral, why do you not exchange prisoners ? ” 

“Exchange!” echoed Washington, the terrible 
grief he had recently suffered rushing in upon him 
again in a fresh tide. “ Exchange ! Alas ! We have 
none to exchange, or nothing but a beggarly handful, 
and they are only too glad to refuse these when they 
can retaliate as they have done of late. I would have 
given every British soldier within our lines for Nathan 
Hale.” 

The last words escaped him in the passion of sor- 
row, for he had loved Hale. In the relaxation of the 
[ 72 ] 


Alas ! We Have None 


moment melancholy claimed him completely. With a 
heavy sigh that was almost a sob he leaned his head 
on his hand and an inexpressible sadness settled on his 
face, the same expression that at intervals had ap- 
peared ever since he had wept unashamed before his 
officers on the morning of the day Hale was executed. 

An exclamation burst from Elizabeth and rising she 
flung herself on her knees by Washington, and taking 
his hand in hers, she said : “ Sir, sir ! Oh, forgive me 

for bringing my trouble to you. I am ashamed, and I 
will try to be as noble as you were good enough to 
say I am. General, Robert and Nathan were friends ; 
they were in Yale together, and I knew him too. 
Poor Nathan ! The night before they hung him he 
asked to have his love sent to Robert, and said : ‘ Tell 

Rob when he gets out of prison to take up the work 
where he left off.’ Sir, if our men cannot be ex- 
changed, they can at least die bravely. Robert Dai- 
ry m pie is every inch a hero, and if necessary ” 

She faltered. 

“ Nay,” interrupted Washington. “ God grant that 
Lieutenant Dalrymple leaves the Jersey , and I’ll see to 
it that a new commission goes to him for his gallant 
action on the field.” He pressed the hands of the 
kneeling girl closely in his own, and continued : “ I 

knew of the friendship between Nathan and Robert, 
and I am glad you knew Nathan. Apparently he died 
[ 73 ] 


Dalrymple 

covered with the ignominy of the spy, but posterity 
will honor him for doing a service which, as he himself 
said, became noble by being necessary. The manner 
of his death has grieved me greatly, but the price of 
liberty is many martyrs. Think of Alice Adams, 
Nathan’s betrothed, and reflect how much better your 
lot is than hers, for you will see your lover again. I 
fear you think me a poor general who cannot get even 
one man out of prison, but I will do the best I can. I 
will write a special letter in his behalf, and ask for 
him on the first list of exchange, so cheer up and keep 
a stout heart.” 

He gently lifted her and added : “ And now, Miss 

Windham, much as I am loath to part with you, I 
have no alternative. I have matters of importance 
pressing, and I must beg of you to pardon the seeming 
discourtesy if I say that I must defer the pleasure of 
your company to some future time, no later than din- 
ner, I hope, for I trust you will honor us with }^our 
presence. I have some agreeable young men in my 
family.” 

“ Sir, I thank you,” replied Elizabeth, smiling and 
curtseying, “ but it will be impossible. My uncle will 
return in time for our own dinner, and I dare not let 
him know of my journey to you. At some other time 
I shall be happy to accept Your Excellency’s invita- 
tion.” 


[ 74 ] 


Alas! We Have None 


“Not too long hence,” said Washington. “Take 
my advice and get your uncle locked up in the Sugar 
House while you bestow your smiles on us for a few 
hours at least. ” He stooped quickly and picked up the 
little white shawl that had slipped to the floor, and if 
he took a marvelously long time in replacing it on 
Elizabeth’s plump shoulders, it was no more than 
might have been expected from the illustrious Father 
of his Country, who was entirely human in the matter 
of beautiful women. “ Lieutenant Dalrymple was on 
my staff,” he said, “ and in his absence I will perform 
one of his duties myself.” With a tender and paternal 
air he kissed her on the forehead. “ For the present, 
farewell.” 

It happened that the door was not entirely closed, 
and the zealous orderly, in the strict discharge of his 
duty, witnessed the chaste salute. He turned to find 
General Greene impatiently awaiting audience with 
Washington. 

“ What does this delay mean ? ” he demanded. “ I 
have been kept waiting ten minutes. Is Howe him- 
self in there ? ” 

“A more important person, General,” said Tall- 
madge. “ A lady, come hither under my escort.” 

« His Excellency has just kissed her,” announced the 
orderly. 

“ Oh, ho ! ” cried Greene. “ Tallmadge, you’re soon 

[ 75 ] 


Dalrymple 

cut out. I’d like to have a turn at that sort of thing 

myself. If I ever get in there I’ll ” 

The towering form of the Commander-in-Chief ap- 
pearing in the doorway with the blushing Elizabeth 
on his arm paralyzed every tongue. 

“ General, I’m glad to see you. Tallmadge, escort 
this lady safely to her home on peril of your life. 
Come in, Greene. Woods, admit no one else.” 


[ 76 ] 


CHAPTER VII 


A Good Example 

EW York City daring the Revolution was 



virtually a captured garrison post, wherein 


^ the captors took full possession of mansions, 
churches, estates, all public and private buildings, and 
used them freely for their own pleasure and purposes. 
With the exception of the Episcopal churches, Trinity 
and St. Paul’s, all the houses of worship were con- 
verted into barracks, hospitals, jails or riding schools 
for the officers, and at the end of the war the condi- 
tion they were in was suggestive of anything but the 
purpose for which they had originally been erected. 

The elegant private residences of the day made 
sumptuous quarters for the British officers installed in 
them. Many fleeing Whig families had not been able 
to remove costly furniture and imported draperies, and 
in some instances even services of solid silver, made to 
order and heavily carved and ornamented, had been 
left behind to do duty for the invaders. Spurred 
boots rested on stuffed sofas and easy chairs, plumed 
chapeaus were thrown carelessly on inlaid chairs, fit 
for royalty ; pipes lay overturned on carved marble 


[ 77 ] 


Dalrymplc 

mantels surmounted by great mirrors in massive gilt 
frames, reflecting scenes of masculine freedom instead 
of the polite society of wig and petticoat that had for- 
merly pirouetted under the chandeliers. Costly paint- 
ings, relics, imported family treasures, porcelain, cut 
glass, fine linen, Gobelin tapestries, expensive carvings 
in marble and mahogany brought from London, all 
contributed not a little to the comfort of the thoroughly 
established invaders. 

After the great fire the cost of living increased and 
there was an unusual demand for lodgings. Boarding 
houses flourished greatly and rates rapidly became ex- 
cessive, until in 1777 more than one unfortunate “ pay- 
ing guest ” complained that living was devilish high, and 
not without reason. Board was £4 per week, not in- 
cluding washing, shaving, candles, liquors, pipes, to- 
bacco and wood. Everything became outrageously 
high, and scarce at any price. Tallow dips were used 
instead of wax candles, even in the theatres and the 
churches. 

But the social life was unhampered. The city was 
a scene of gayety, fashion, frivolity and extravagance. 
With the departure of so many families the proportion 
of the feminine element was considerably reduced, and 
every desirable woman had a throng of suitors. Eliza- 
beth, with her youth, beauty and rebel tendencies, 
might have had a score of Tory lovers at her feet, but 
[78] 


A Good Example 

her intense loyalty to Robert succeeded in keeping all 
at a distance, so far as making any headway was con- 
cerned, though it was impossible for her to restrain 
their attentions, openly encouraged as they were by 
Peter. Rutherford, of course, led the list, nor could 
Elizabeth shake him off, for in addition to being an 
ardent and determined suitor, he had from the first 
captured Peter completely and had at once impressed 
him with the idea that he was the most eligible parti 
for Elizabeth who had ever appeared on the scene. 

Fashionable Tory leaders — and the women were the 
leaders in that gay set — set a stirring pace for the 
social life, and dinners, parties, balls and assemblies 
made up a brilliant rout in which Elizabeth was a 
prominent and courted figure. Mrs. Fitzmorris was 
over from Philadelphia much of the time, for she took 
much more kindly to social life than Mrs. Hardy, and 
under her watchful and ambitious eye Elizabeth was 
tutored in worldly wisdom until secretly she rebelled 
and in the solitude of her room prayed earnestly for 
that freedom dearest to a woman’s heart — freedom to 
love the man of her choice. 

She had but little consolation in the way of com- 
panionship with her former friends. Many families 
had left the city, and those who remained were under 
the ban at Tory houses, and nowhere more completely 
than at Peter Simpson’s. Even Elizabeth’s girl friends 
[ 79 ] 


D alrymple 

were not welcome by him, though she managed to re- 
ceive one occasionally, and she did that as she did 
everything — openly, though not without the inevitable 
conflict with Peter. 

“No, Uncle Peter, Nellie Musgrove is not a spy, 
and you know it. You’ve known her from a baby, 
and mamma and her mother were friends, and you 
know that she is just one of my girl chums. You may 
stay in the room and hear every word that is said if 
you want to, but put yourself in my place and see if 
you think you’d like to be refused permission to see 
your friends, just because you had a guardian who 
didn’t want you to, and all for some silly reason.” 

The girl’s face was warmly flushed, her eyes starry, 
her expression sparkling with the agitated tumult of 
her tender heart. Many, many such passages had she 
had with this stubborn, passionate, but soft-hearted 
man, who was secretly her slave. He grunted now, 
and Elizabeth, recognizing a familiar sign of good 
omen, hastened to follow up her advantage by assum- 
ing her most bewitching smile, calculating, like a true 
daughter of Eve, on the weapons with which Yenus 
had equipped her at birth. 

“Not a spy ! Well, I scarcely think she’s carrying 
cipher dispatches, but all these rebels are spies and a 
chit of a girl can prate as much as anybody. Mr. 
Washington’s spies are within our lines constantly 
[80] 


A Good Example 

They come into this city and go out of it every day, 
in spite of the utmost vigilance, and it behooves all 
loyal adherents to take every possible precaution. 
We can trust no one in these days — no one at all. As 
for staying in the room to hear the silly prattle of two 
simple girls about such trash as clothes, I’ve some- 
thing better to do.” 

“ Oh, uncle ! ” cried Elizabeth, who knew now that 
she had won, “ that reminds me that my best white 
silk is ruined, and I’ll have to have another. That 
stupid Jim Lowes stepped on it at the last assembly 
and tore it to ribbons. Nellie had to pin and pin me 
in the dressing-room, and Madame Chaumant says she 
can do nothing respectable with it.” 

She looked at Peter with a touching despair. 

“ Considering that you’re a rebel yourself, and any- 
thing good enough for the likes of you, I suppose I’ll 
have to clothe you in purple and fine linen,” growled 
Peter. “ At this rate I’ll soon be a poor man, war or 
no war, and you’d better get a wealthy husband to 
furnish your folderols, eh, Bess ? ” 

She flushed again, more deeply and more charmingly 
than ever, but shook her head with the air of a spoiled 
child. 

“ I think I’ll be an old maid,” she said. The deep 
disgrace that attached to that estate in those days can 
scarcely be conceived now. A woman then was 
[81] 


Dalrymple 

usually married before she was twenty, and not to be 
wedded at the age of twenty-five was to be hopelessly 
ancient. Peter threw back his head and roared. 

“ A good thing,” he said. “ I can see you now with 
corkscrew curls and a wig, grinning from a corner like 
an animated nut-cracker at every young gallant who 
is making sheep’s eyes at your young and lovely 
rivals. And it’s coming fast too, Bess. You’re seven- 
teen now, and in another year your teeth will begin to 
drop out, and as for crow’s feet, ’pon my soul you’ve 
got them now.” 

“Uncle Peter!” shrieked Elizabeth. She flew at 
him and pommeled him with all the fury of firm arms 
whose smooth roundness was as yet untouched by 
decay. Peter cried for mercy early. “Ouch!” he 
said. “ I take it back. Deliver me from a pet Ama- 
zon that breaks loose.” 

“ That isn’t any better,” said Elizabeth. 

“Well, there’s no pleasing some women. When a 
gentle female takes it into her head to be aggrieved all 
the sweet names in the vocabulary won’t appease her. 
I’m afraid to call you anything now, but if you spare 
what’s left of me I’ll get you another white silk frock 
to go the way of all the rest.” 

Elizabeth stroked his hair at the temples, where the 
tell-tale traces of fifty years showed significantly. 
“ Dear Uncle Peter,” she said, “ I think you are just 
[82] 


A Good Example 

lovely to me. I’ll give that old thing to Julia, she’s 
had her eye on it for a long time. Won’t she cut a 
figure in it leading a cake-walk ? ” 

“With a vengeance. She’ll look like a thunder- 
cloud in a snow-storm, and if that yellow nigger, 
Adolph, is her mate I don’t know whether I can stand 
the sight or not.” 

“ Poor Adolph ! Julia does treat him so badly.” 

Peter snorted. “ Black and white you’re all alike 
there. As soon as a man’s in love with a woman she 
puts her foot on his neck and walks all over him.” 

“ Has the widow been unkind to you ? ” asked Eliza- 
beth, innocently. 

“ To me ! The dev ! Er, Bess, don’t get a wrong 

idea into your head there. If you mean Mrs. Earle 
you needn’t bother yourself on that subject. I’ve 
never offered her anything but ordinary civility, and 
as for marrying her — why it’s ridiculous. I’m not a 
marrying man, Bess, and if I ever were to commit the 
crime of matrimony there’d be no lording it over me. 
I’d be master. ’Tis the only way to prevent a woman 
from being a vixen.” 

He felt something shaking against his shoulder, 
heard strange, muffled sounds, and lifted her head to 
find her convulsed with laughter. 

“ Oh, poor Uncle Peter ! ” she gasped. “ I shall have 
to protect you,” she went on, wiping her eyes. “ Oh, 

[83] 


T)alrymple 

wliat a despot you will be ! ” She relapsed into mirth. 
Deep within him Peter felt a qualm. He had already 
encountered the widow’s airy pleasantry, and he knew 
that with all his wealth and influence Mistress Earle 
was not the woman to give her hand without her 
heart. 

“ Hark you, Bess,” he said, “ make as merry as you 
like, but ’tis true that I’ll never be the slave of a petti- 
coat after the fashion of some men, married and un- 
married. And you may laugh all day, my girl, but 
remember that the most scornful maid makes the 
meekest wife.” 

Elizabeth sat up and looked as solemn as fun-brim- 
ming eyes and dimpled mouth would permit. “I’ll 
remember; just think how meek I’ll be. But, Uncle 
Peter, don’t you think she’s a spy ? ” 

Peter surveyed his niece carefully. What was to be 
the end of such alarming logic! By way of gaining 
time he took snuff, and decided on the good old way 
of answering. 

“ If she is, don’t you think it my duty to capture 
her and mete out the just punishment of a spy ? ” 

Elizabeth gave unmistakable signs of joy. “ That’s 
right, Uncle Peter, but remember, } r ou’re not to marry 
without my consent.” 

“ I shall set a good example to some other people by 
my obedience.” 


[ 84 ] 


A Good Example 

“ I know you don’t mean me, but I hope the other 
people will do you credit.” 

“ Quite likely. Here comes one now who might.” 
He looked out of the window and indicated a girlish 
figure approaching. 

“ Why, here’s Nellie now ! Oh, Uncle Peter, you 
don’t really care at all, do you ? ” 

Peter was already half way to the door. “ Anything 
but clothes ! ” he muttered. He narrowly escaped fall- 
ing over Elizabeth’s young caller in the door, and bowed 
her in with his accustomed bland air. He disappeared 
up the stairway with the echoes of their laughter in 
his ears, and half an hour later, when he emerged from 
his room, freshly powdered and groomed, he bent his 
steps to the widow Earle’s. 


[ 85 ] 


CHAPTER YIII 


We Are Wrong 

HE year closed gloriously for American 



arms. The drunken Kahl, carousing with his 


*“““ officers at headquarters in Trenton, had paid 
the price, and "Washington was covered with glory. 
In England Lord Germain said : “ Our hopes are 
blasted by that unhappy affair at Trenton.” Horace 
Walpole said : “ I look upon a great part of America 
as lost to this country.” 

When, on that memorable night of the twenty -fifth 
of December, Washington had personally encouraged 
the Marblehead mariners in manning the boats, and 
had himself assisted in the embarkation, he little 
dreamed that he would not only teach the British a 
lesson, but would also win military reputation by it, 
but to this day it remains as one of the most brilliant 
and daring manoeuvres on record. Closely wrapped 
in a great cloak to protect him from the bitter cold 
of the night, the Chief went among the men, facing 
all the hardships they encountered from three o’clock 
in the afternoon until well into the morning of the fol- 
lowing day, and displayed that remarkable power of 


[ 86 ] 


We Are Wrong 

physical endurance which gave him not a little pres- 
tige with the troops. 

With him were his best generals, Greene, Sullivan, 
Mercer, Stirling, Knox, Hand, Stark, and all his young 
and enthusiastic staff officers, Hamilton and others. 
Tallmadge was one of his aides, and was active all 
night, and every officer vied with every one else to 
emulate the example set by their Commander. A lit- 
tle before four in the morning Knox and Tallmadge 
were tugging at one of the boats, while Washington 
stood near. The river was running full of ice and the 
current was swift and difficult to stem. The great 
coats of both men were a sheet of ice and sleet, having 
been frozen stiff early in the night by the intense cold. 

“ Thank God we’re almost done,” said Tallmadge. 
“ There are only about half-a-dozen boats left. I am 
frozen solid.” 

“ Steady ! ” said Knox. “ How, boys.” Six men 
pulled and tugged at a boat that had stuck and got it 
afloat, and Knox and Tallmadge barely saved a man 
who dropped on the ice as the boat slipped off. He 
had succumbed to cold and exhaustion, and Knox 
poured a few drops of liquor between his lips, while 
Tallmadge vigorously rubbed his hands. 

Less than an hour later Tallmadge himself barely 
had his ears saved. They had swollen to an enormous 
size and were white with the peculiar waxiness of 

[87] 


Dalrymple 

frozen flesh. The treatment he received was barely in 
time to save them, and by then they had landed on 
the other side of the Delaware and had a nine-mile 
march before them. He marched with Washington 
and Greene in the advance guard, led by Capt. Wil- 
liam Washington, who had James Monroe as his first 
lieutenant. This division was the column to the left. 
Sullivan led the other, along the river road. All suf- 
fered terribly from the cold. The march in the snow, 
with stinging winds biting at every step, was a diffi- 
cult exertion for the men, after a night spent in launch- 
ing the boats, but no one grumbled. 

The artillery was lumbering along in the snow, which 
fortunately deadened the rumble, and they were about 
half way to Trenton when a messenger arrived from 
Sullivan. Washington was ahead, side by side with 
Greene, and Tallmadge was just behind with Monroe 
when the man rode up and said : “ Sir, I am sent by 
General Sullivan to say that the storm has ruined 
many of the muskets, and his detachment is greatly 
weakened.” 

Washington hesitated not a moment. His figure 
straightened a little in the saddle as he replied : “ Tell 
General Sullivan to use the bayonet instead, for the 
town must be taken.” The messenger saluted and 
turned away, to ride back in the darkness. 

“ A lot of our men are in the same fix,” said Tall- 

m 


We Are Wrong 

madge, “ but bayonets will be all right, if they aren’t 
frozen off too. I could swear I’m an icicle from head 
to foot.” 

“ It’s tough,” assented Monroe, “ but it makes the at- 
tack a sure thing for us. If any of that hot toddy is 
left I’ll find time to try it.” 

When in the early day they had entered the town, 
the thirty-five minute engagement had been full of pic- 
turesque interest. Washington stayed with the artil- 
lery, and personally directed the firing, but as soon as 
the attack was fairly on he had ridden from point to 
point, disregarding his personal safety, and inspiring 
the whole action. At the end of that historic half 
hour the Continentals had taken nearly one thousand 
prisoners, besides a great quantity of field -pieces and 
small arms, and in the sudden surprise drunken Hes- 
sians reaching out for a glass of steaming punch were 
taken prisoner before they could drink it, and saw 
Monroe’s benevolent intention imitated by many of 
their captors. 

When they summed up their own losses, the Amer- 
icans found that they had lost only four privates, of 
whom two had been frozen to death. “ It was a wonder 
it was not two hundred instead,” said Tallmadgea few 
days later. “ Most of the men got enough that night. 
The regiments are going to pieces.” 

“ The army will be pretty nearly disbanded by the 
[ 89 ] 


Dalry?nple 

time all the men whose time expires go home,” said 
Knox, u but those who have volunteered to serve six 
weeks longer without pay are setting a good pace. 
It’s just as well for them not to stipulate for pay, as 
we haven’t any money.” 

That was on Saturday, the twenty-eighth, and on the 
thirtieth Washington effected the second crossing over 
the Delaware and proceeded to Trenton again, having 
withdrawn with his troops and prisoners across the 
river on the evening of the same day he made the first 
attack. In Trenton he took up his headquarters in 
the house of Major John Barnes, a Boyalist, not far 
from the Assunpink Creek. There he reorganized 
his forces and wrote an urgent letter to Robert Morris, 
in Philadelphia, asking for money at once. 

“ My own fortune is pledged, and that of all my 
officers,” he said to Greene, “ and still we are so nearly 
bankrupt that there is no money to pay the troops. 
The paymaster has no funds ; our public credit is ex- 
hausted. The time of whole regiments is out with 
the last day of the year, and we must have more.” 

“ Sir,” said Knox, u the extraordinary powers with 
which the Congress has just invested you, and the fact 
that our commissioners in France are authorized to 
borrow two millions sterling, are quite enough to raise 
the wherewithal to pay all the troops now and here- 
after, indefinitely.” He looked around gravely at his 
[ 9 °] 


We Are Wrong 

brother officers, as if he expected them to believe 
him. 

“ What you need is a commission to inquire into 
your sanity,” growled Stirling. 

“ My dear Knox,” said Washington, “ I know you 
are an optimist of the first water, but we need solid 
coin instead of a financial theory. I shall write to 
Morris to-day.” 

Morris received the letter without delay, as Wash- 
ington sent a special messenger post-haste, and he read : 
“Borrow money while it can be done. ~No time, my 
dear sir, is to be lost.” 

He obeyed literally, and on Hew Year’s morning, 
before wealthy Philadelphians were out of their beds, 
Morris was thundering at their knockers, and respect- 
able citizens, still night-capped and gowned, signed 
checks under his urgent representations, so that before 
noon of the same day Morris sent Washington fifty 
thousand dollars. 

But even a more brilliant achievement was in store 
for the troops. Cornwallis, about to sail for Europe, was 
hastily sent back to repair the damage wrought at 
Trenton, and with seven thousand men was making 
ready to descend on the army. Washington had word 
of the intended movement, and sent Greene and Hand 
to hold the British in check. The extreme cold had 
moderated somewhat, and the men were in good spir- 

[90 


Dalrymple 

its from their recent success. The British general 
came to a halt within a mile of Trenton, and then 
encamped his troops on the hill above the town, confi- 
dent that he had Washington trapped. The Chief, in 
full uniform and mounted on a white horse, rode out 
late in the afternoon, and showed himself to all the men. 
A heavy, foggy night fell, with the two armies lying 
on opposite sides of the creek, camp-fires burning and 
sentries pacing. Those on duty at the British out- 
posts heard the sound of digging all night, where in- 
trenchments were evidently being thrown up by the 
Americans. 

At daybreak a distant rumbling of cannon in the di- 
rection of Princeton alarmed Cornwallis. The Amer- 
ican army had disappeared during the night, and 
Cornwallis hastened after to protect the depository 
of stores at New Brunswick. His discomfiture was 
complete. Washington took his worn-out troops, after 
the capture of Princeton, and withdrew to Morris- 
town, where he went into winter quarters, and the ex- 
peditions he sent out so harassed the British general 
that he was compelled to evacuate all his posts west of 
New Brunswick, and concentrate his troops there for 
safety. 

That winter saw the marauding parties begun, which 
did such devastating mischief to the end of the war. 
The bitterest hatred was engendered in the Tories by 

[92] 


We Are Wrong 

the bill passed later which confiscated all estates of 
those who adhered to the British crown after a cer- 
tain date. The refugees were furious, even though 
the act provided a period of grace in which without 
loss of property they might renew their allegiance. 

Deeds of daring and gallantry characterized the win- 
ter. Late in January Washington wrote the order of 
discharge to the Philadelphia Light Horse, under Cap- 
tain Morris, and said : “ I take this opportunity of re- 
turning my most sincere thanks to the Captain and to 
the gentlemen who compose the troop for the many 
essential services which they have rendered to their 
country, and to me personally during the course of this 
severe campaign. Though composed of gentlemen of 
fortune, they have shown a noble example of discipline 
and subordination, and in several actions have shown 
a spirit of bravery which will ever do honor to them 
and will ever be gratefully remembered by me.” 

When the raw winds of March blew the resources of 
the Americans were at a low ebb. Smallpox had 
raged in the army in Canada, and despite all precau- 
tions the troops in camp had also suffered from it at 
Morristown and under Parsons in Connecticut. 
Worse than all was the prospect of opening the spring 
campaign with depleted ranks. The Chief held many 
anxious consultations with his staff and officers, and 
his correspondence with the Congress is burdened 
[ 93 ] 


Dalrymple 

with accounts of the weakened condition of the 
force. 

“ The trouble is,” said Stirling, “ that we have been 
obliged to put too much dependence on the militia, 
and some fine day, when the enemy finds out just how 
weak we are they will swoop down and seize all our 
magazines, and we shall be left without arms or 
artillery.” 

“ Nothing but their ignorance of our numbers has 
protected us,” replied Washington. “ The enlistment 
of the militia always runs out at the time they are 
most needed, and the equipment of the state battalions 
has been deplorably slow. By the best intelligence I 
can get, Howe must have about ten thousand men in 
the Jerseys and on the transports at Amboy. On the 
fifteenth of this month I shall be left with the remains 
of five Virginia regiments, and parts of two or three 
other Continental battalions, all very weak, and the 
rest of the army will be made up of small parties of 
militia from Jersey and Pennsylvania, so that the 
whole of our numbers in Jersey fit for duty, is not 
more than three thousand. The troops under inocula- 
tion amount to about one thousand. Gentlemen, I 
know the Lord is on our side, but even the God of 
battles needs men. I fear we shall not meet the enemy 
with serried ranks.” 

“ Sir,” said Stirling, “ it is true the outlook is not 
[ 94 ] 


We Are Wrong 

cheerful, yet I feel convinced that when spring has 
fairly opened we shall be pretty well reinforced. The 
severity of the winter has operated against us, but if 
Howe remains as sluggish as he has been we have 
nothing to fear.” 

In May, Washington removed camp to Middlebrook, 
Hew Jersey, where he remained until the Fourth of 
July. Howe evacuated .Hew Brunswick and retreated 
to Amboy, burning everything in his path as he went, 
and on the last day of June he took his whole army 
over to Staten Island and left the state of Hew Jersey 
without British troops within her borders for the first 
time in many months. 

’Squire Elliott came down from Westchester fre- 
quently that winter, and endeavored to ingratiate him- 
self with Elizabeth as a future husband, but before 
spring he knew that, much as he desired the prize, his 
wishes were hopeless. Paul was often with him, and 
Elizabeth discovered to her joy that the young man 
had secret leanings towards the Continental cause, and 
the knowledge made a deep, sympathetic bond between 
them which many times enlivened life for the girl 
when the constant harping of Mrs. Hardy on the sub- 
ject of a suitable match became almost unbearable. 
Paul was a warm-hearted, impulsive young fellow, 
and, having known Elizabeth ever since they both were 
children, he was deeply interested in the love affair 
[ 95 ] 


Dalrymple 

of herself and Eobert. For months he had been pri- 
vately pledged to get any word of Eobert that he 
could for her, but he was unable to obtain any, for 
after the episode of the letter the prisoners on board 
the Jersey and the other prison ships, were subjected 
to a rigorous watchfulness that precluded all possibil- 
ity of future communication, and the officers ceased to 
give out the verbal messages they had hitherto done. 

Peter entertained more lavishly than ever that win- 
ter, and the most noted Tories of the city sat at his 
hospitable board, while a bevy of young officers paid 
devoted court to Elizabeth. These she rather encour- 
aged than otherwise, as they served to hold Euther- 
ford at some distance. But not all of the time. He 
had been out of the city for several weeks in the latter 
part of the winter, and on his return was a guest at 
dinner. It was the last week of March and a day of 
remarkable balminess, so that the windows were open. 
’Squire Elliott and Paul were also there and Mrs. 
Axtell, who was a De Puyster, a Eoyalist of the first 
water. Her husband had been one of the Governor’s 
council before the war, and the De Puysters and Ax- 
tells were pillars in the stronghold of the Tories. 

The conversation ran on the all-absorbing topic of 
the day. Eutherford had been with Howe at Prince- 
ton, and was no better pleased with the twin achieve- 
ments of Washington than could be expected. “ I 
[96] 


We Are Wrong 

assure you, madam,” he said to Mrs. Axtell, “ it was 
devilish disagreeable for our men at New Brunswick. 
We were cooped up there for weeks, and not so much 
as a stick of wood or a pint of corn could we get with- 
out a skirmish, unless it was sent over from New York. 
Really, it seemed quite an odd state of affairs, for this 
Mr. Washington has but a ragged handful compared 
to our troops, but we propose to turn the tables on 
them very soon.” 

“ I suppose it is all the fortune of war,” said Mrs. 
Axtell, “and that first one side and then the other 
may gain the advantage, but we had not expected 
things to go this way.” 

“ Oh, it will soon be different. We have planned to 
finish matters up this summer, and deliver the ladies 
from war’s alarms. Shall you not be delighted, Miss 
Windham ? ” 

Elizabeth, sorely tempted to make a spirited reply, 
as she would have done had they been alone, dared not 
obey her impulse with so many eyes and ears in hos- 
tile array. “ I shall be charmed. Of course here in 
New York we haven’t anything to frighten us, and 
yet, as you say, I’m sure things will be — different.” 
She looked modestly down, but the slight pause she 
made before the last word was not without its sig- 
nificance. She felt Mrs. Hardy’s eyes penetrate her, 
as that lady said : 


[ 97 ] 


Dalrymple 

“ Bess enjoys everything, even war.” 

“Well, for my part I must say I think it has its fas- 
cination,” said Mrs. Axtell. “ I’m sure the tone of 
society has been improved, and Mrs. De Lancey said 
only yesterday that she had never met so many agree- 
able men before.” 

“ I have the honor of knowing Mrs. De Lancey,” 
said Rutherford, “ and I would take the compliment 
to myself if I dared. You know we are on some black 
lists.” 

“ I think we would all be willing to go on the black 
lists you mean,” said Mrs. Axtell. “ No rebel should 
be received under my roof or sit at my table.” 

“You are fortunate if you succeed in that. The 
trouble nowadays is that there are so many rebels in 
disguise that sometimes not all the members of one 
family can be trusted.” It was Rutherford who spoke, 
and Elizabeth knew the reply was meant for her. Her 
cheeks grew hot and words sprung to her lips, but be- 
fore she could utter them ’Squire Elliott said : 

“A few more rebels here, whether in disguise or 
not, makes little difference, but it is alarming to see 
the strength of the opposition at home. Parliament 
has clashed all winter. Rockingham, Cavendish and 
Shelburne have all made speeches favoring the out- 
laws. The Duke of Grafton has come out for them ; 
Edmund Burke has advised peace on any terms. 

[98] 


We Are Wrong 

Chatham in his retirement has used his influence con- 
stantly for the colonists. When men of such weight 
have gone over to the other side we have something 
serious to fight internally.'’ 

Peter lifted up his voice in reply, and under cover of 
the lively interchange that took place, Rutherford 
turned to Elizabeth at his side, and she promptly 
seized the opportunity. 

“ At least the rebels in this family are not in dis- 
guise, Colonel Rutherford.” 

“No disguise could be as charming as the reality.” 

Elizabeth was silent, an alarming symptom for her. 
Rutherford became anxious to counteract the effect of 
his previous remarks. He spoke in a low, carefully 
inflected tone : 

“ When the war is over and things are — different, I 
hope that you will let me make the difference for both 
of us. If I can make you happy it will be the differ- 
ence I wish.” 

“ You can make me happy now — to-day.” 

“ I am at your service.” 

“Use your influence to get Lieutenant Dalrymple 
exchanged.” 

Across the table Elizabeth caught a warning glance 
from Paul, and she saw Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Ax tell 
regarding her curiously. Peter and the ’Squire were 
deep in an argument on the Ministry. 

[ 99 ] 


Lore. 


Dalrymple 

“You look surprised, Colonel,” said Mrs. Axtell. 
“ Has Miss Windham routed you ? ” 

“Horse and foot, I assure you. Any man would 
expect to do the seven labors of Hercules at the bid- 
ding of a woman, but Miss Windham requires more 
than that.” 

“Really, how interesting. Would it be indiscreet 
to ask what it is ? ” 

Rutherford turned to Elizabeth. “ Have I permis- 
sion ? ” 

“ I trust to your discretion, Colonel Rutherford.” 

“ This is probably meant as a challenge, but I prefer 
to assume that you throw yourself on my mercy.” 

“I am more curious than ever now,” insisted Mrs. 
Axtell. 

“ Alas ! ” said Rutherford, “ I am in the last ditch. 
I am unable to gratify either of you. War is no jest 
when it reduces a man to a plight like this. Believe 
me, madam, I need your sympathy.” 

When the ladies rose from the table Paul Elliott also 
excused himself, and leaving the two older women in 
the drawing-room he and Elizabeth went out into the 
yard in the rear and strolled up and down the broad 
walks. The flood of sunlight made one of the warm 
days that might have been May, and all about them 
were signs of spring. Every branch was swelling and 
the robins were singing. 

[ICO] 


We Are Wrong 

“ You had a narrow escape at the table,” said Paul. 
“For a moment I was certain that Mrs. Axtell had 
heard you.” 

“Did you?” asked Elizabeth, startled. 

“ Yes ; but I was listening, you don’t mind, do you ? 
She had noticed you a good deal through dinner, and 
I knew she had her ears open to catch what passed be- 
tween you and Rutherford.” 

“ Oh, I am watched all the time,” sighed the girl. 
“ I never have a moment when every word I say is not 
commented on. Paul, can’t you think of any way to 
get some word from him ? ” 

“ I have thought of at least twenty ways, but none 
of them will work. The best you can do is to wait 
and hope that he will be exchanged, for he surely will 
be some day.” 

“ I try to believe that, but the waiting is hard, and 
so many of the men die. I cannot understand why 
he has not been exchanged long before now.” 

“There are doubtless those who understand it in 
full. You may rest assured that wires have been 
pulled. In cases like these, where every process is 
concealed, it is useless to speculate.” 

They walked in silence. The light wind lifted 
Elizabeth’s hair from her forehead and blew it in little 
waves that curled like an aureole. Paul was about to 
speak, but as they were near the long window that was 
[ioi] 


Dalrymple 

open, and the women were just inside, he waited until 
they had gone to the further end of the walk, and 
said : “ Let us sit here.” They sat on a rustic bench, 

but he got no further in his words. Elizabeth looked 
at him earnestly. 

“ What is it, Paul ? ” 

“Bess, of course I know I can trust you. I am 
about convinced that we are wrong.” 

Elizabeth stared at him open-eyed for an instant. 
She had not expected such an outspoken declaration. 

“ Oh, Paul, do you mean it ? ” she cried. 

“Sh! Not so loud. Yes; Pve had some warm 
arguments with the governor, and matters are strained 
between us. It’s the principle of the thing, and then, 
somehow a lot of the best fellows I know are with the 
Continentals, and they’re at me all the time. Danged 
if I don’t think the old war’s unnecessary anyhow.” 

“ Paul ! Oh, I can’t tell you how delighted I am ! 
I knew long ago that you had some sympathy for — 
for our side, but I didn’t think you’d come over en- 
tirely. Paul, I never dared say ‘ our ’ side here before.” 

The young fellow looked at her admiringly. “ Bess, 
you’re the right sort. Now tell the truth, ’pon honor 
— would you have been on the rebel side if Dalrymple 
hadn’t been in love with you and got you to his way 
of thinking?” 

“ Ton honor, Paul, I would. You see it’s in me to 
[ 102 ] 


We Are Wrong 

want my own way, and I don’t like to be bossed, and 
I understand the ‘ principle ’ too, as you say. I think 
it’s just the same as if Uncle Peter would ask me to 
pay his taxes. Yes, I really was a rebel before I met 
Robert.” 

“ Oh, but you’re in for it ! ” laughed Paul. “ You’re 
the kind of girl to be bossed right and left when 
you’re married. I hope he gets off that ship. Keep 
it up, Bess, while you can.” 

“ I shall keep it up after I’m married just as much 
as before,” asserted Elizabeth. “Will you enlist, 
Paul?” 

“I have no immediate intention of enlisting, but 
there’s no telling when I may. The fact is I don’t 
care for war, don’t believe in that sort of thing. I 
hate to go against the governor, too, and he knows it. 
He wants me on his own side. I was offered a lieu- 
tenant’s commission under Burgoyne, and dad didn’t 
like it when I refused.” 

“Well, if I were a man I’d enlist to-morrow.” 

“ The governor says there’s a special Providence for 
women. I’ll nose around, Bess, and see if any thing 
can be found out about your young man. Imagine 
what he would do to Rutherford if he should catch 
him making love to you ! ” 

“It seems to me I can’t have any fun. Even if I 
try to joke, a lot of the men seem to misunderstand me.” 
[ I0 3] 


Dalrymple 

" Cheer up, Bess, it could be a lot worse. There 
might not be any men at all.” 

“ Well, I’m sure none of you make any difference 
to me.” 

“ Don’t get personal. Ah, there’s the governor at 
the window, and he’s likely to head this way. Don’t 
you think it’s a shame for me to cut him out in this 
underhanded manner ? ” 

“ Oh, let us go in,” said Elizabeth, hastily, rising. 
“ Cousin Amanda doesn’t like for me to remain out of 
the drawing-room so long. Come down as often as 
you can.” 

No word came from Robert. Elizabeth shut her 
life within herself bravely before others, and saw 
many hours of sadness and fearful hoping in her 
room, comforted only by the faithful Julia. She was 
obliged to go out with Rutherford a good deal all 
through the spring and early summer, and July found 
him more attentive than ever. 


[104] 


CHAPTER IX 

To Our Loved Ones 

T HE morning of the Fourth dawned clear and 
brilliant. Before sunrise a faint haze had 
hung over the bay, and the ships that lay at 
anchor had showed their stately outlines shrouded in 
ghostly gray. But with the first spears of sunlight 
the mists had fled, and before the earliest citizens were 
astir the spires of the churches had sparkled in the 
shimmering flood of light that bathed the city. Negro 
servants swarmed about the Tea Water Pump, where 
water for cooking purposes was obtained, the water 
of the city being brackish and no system having yet 
been installed, and gossiped of their masters and mis- 
tresses after the manner of servants. 

The day was ushered in quietly enough. What is 
now the great national holiday, beginning several 
days previous and heralded with hideous noises to test 
the nerves of the most patriotic, was then but the first 
feeble anniversary of the determined patriots, and in 
New York, under martial rule and in the grip of the 
Royalists, the Continentals who remained made but a 
few sporadic and unsatisfactory attempts to celebrate. 
[ I0 5] 


Dalrymple 

Yet the attempts were made, and met with the result 
which might have been expected. 

In her white bed Elizabeth had slept and dreamed, 
and in the vision of sleep that came to her she had 
been with her lover, their arms had embraced and 
their lips had touched, and then, through this tender 
Elysian field, had echoed a strident note that roused 
her and sent her, dewy-eyed and still dreamy with 
slumber, to her window. It was just daybreak, the 
sky was redly flushed and the atmosphere was not yet 
charged with the heat of the day. Elizabeth, leaning 
out of the window and looking down the street, saw 
approaching a small company of 3 r ouths and boys, 
marching in what was supposed to be martial order, 
but in reality struggling along manfully after a fife 
and drum playing a patriotic quickstep. Their leader 
carried a flag, evidently of home manufacture, and 
each one wore the tricolor, while some of the more 
favored carried small flags. As they drew near 
Peter’s house the fervor of the drum and fife in- 
creased, and not a few looked up inquiringly. 

The flag-bearer at the head of the little column 
caught sight of Elizabeth and saluted, waving vigor- 
ously. The action attracted the attention of the rest, 
and with a general shout every banner was waved and 
a treble of shrill voices cried : “ Hooray for George 
Washington ! ” 


[106] 


To Our Loved Ones 


The defiance thrilled her, and she felt her blood 
tingle as, forgetting all else but Robert and the cause 
he represented, she responded with a smile of lips and 
eyes, and waved her hand in reply. 

“ Elizabeth ! ” said a stern voice behind her. Mrs. 
Hardy had also been awakened by the shrill notes, and 
she stood by Elizabeth in horrified amazement. 

“ Don’t they look nice ! ” said Elizabeth. She drew 
back from the window, gave one look at Mrs. Hardy’s 
set face, and broke into laughter. 

“Your conduct is shameful. Have you not even 
any modesty left, to show yourself this way ? And 
waving a salute to a beggarly lot of rebels from this 
house ! ” 

“ That’s why it’s funny,” said Elizabeth. “ Think if 
it had been Uncle Peter instead.” 

Mrs. Hardy was too exasperated to speak, but as 
though in reply to the last words, the front door closed 
heavily, and Elizabeth saw Peter’s portly form hasten 
in the direction of the law-breakers. 

“ There he goes now ! What a pity they didn’t get 
a better start ! ” 

“You had better dress yourself,” said Mrs. Hardy, 
curtly, returning to her room. 

“Indeed I will,” said Elizabeth, meekly, but bub- 
bling over. The little episode had exhilarated her, and 
as she slipped her bodice over her white shoulders be- 
[107] 


Dalrymple 

fore the glass a radiant warmth filled her that augured 
happiness for the future. “ How dreadful it must be 
to get cross,” she thought. “ I wonder why Cousin 
Amanda never feels cheerful.” 

At the breakfast table Peter unfolded the fate of the 
young criminals. They had indeed come to a sad end. 
An officer had swooped down on them and had at- 
tempted to disperse them, and in the undignified scrim- 
mage that ensued the flag had been torn and captured 
and the officer had been roughly handled, but with as- 
sistance had managed to arrest half-a-dozen or so and 
march them off to be locked up, and others of the 
offenders had suffered from blows indiscriminately 
dealt out by those who came to the rescue of the 
King’s representative, and then had fled and saved 
themselves as best they might. Incidentally, a daring 
resident of Maiden Lane who had hung out a flag had 
been ordered to take it in, and having refused he too was 
taken along, while his wife leaned out of the window 
and hurled uncomplimentary remarks. 

“ They’re taken care of now,” concluded Peter. 
“ These fine rebels are getting a dose of what they 
were giving us not so long ago. The King’s men 
called before the Committee on Conspiracy, hauled up 
before self -constituted judges and questioned this, that 
and the other. Asked whether we thought the Parlia- 
ment had the right to tax the colonies ; whether de- 
[108] 


To Our Loved Ones 


feuse by arms was justifiable ; whether we were willing 
to swear allegiance to the colonies ! And then, as if that 
were not enough, some carried through the streets on 
rails at noonday, with torn clothes and faces stained 
with mud and dirt thrown by the outlaws. There’s 
another order of things now, and they’re finding 
it out.” 

He looked suspiciously at Elizabeth, but she was 
occupied with her porridge and looked more than 
usually innocent. She heard his words, but her 
thoughts hovered over one of the ships moored in the 
East River, on board of which had long been confined 
the man she loved, and her imagination was busy, as 
it had been a thousand times before, as to his life, his 
surroundings; was he ill, hungry, might he not be 
thinking of her at that moment? A gentle sigh 
escaped her. 

“ What is the matter ? ” asked Peter. 

“ Nothing ; I think I got up too early.” 

“ Do you want a beauty nap in the morning as well 
as before midnight?” asked Peter, indulgently, his 
suspicions dispersed. “ Make up for lost time after 
dinner. I don’t think there’ll be any more fifes and 
drums around again to-day.” 

On the dark hulk anchored in the East River, 
whither Elizabeth’s thoughts had fled, another Fourth 
of July celebration was in progress. Robert, who had 
[ 109 ] 


Dalrymple 

just recovered somewhat from the ship’s fever, had some 
days previous proposed that the anniversary should 
not pass without some recognition, and he had taken 
active lead in what preparations they had been able to 
make. Almost a year had passed since he had leaped 
lightly through the low window, leaving Elizabeth 
with a gay laugh and a careless wave of the hand, and 
the horrors of his imprisonment were plainly visible. 
In common with all his comrades in that world of 
concentrated misery, he had sunk far below a normal 
physical standard. Pale and emaciated, the change in 
him was startling, but his weakened frame and hollow 
eyes were no different from those of his companions. 

He too had wakened early that morning, though 
not to the stirring notes of fife and drum, and he had 
tossed restlessly long before the light crept through 
the barred air-ports. The atmosphere was, as usual, 
poisonous, for they were closely confined between 
decks with the hatches closed and the sickening odors 
were sufficient to cause illness in any healthy man. 

It was not long after daylight when the prisoners 
were permitted to go on the upper deck, though not 
until after the “ burying gang ” had gone ashore with 
the dead, to put them in the shallow trenches on the 
Long Island shore, in full view of the ship. There 
was more than the usual amount of sickness on board ; 
the heat prostrated many in their weakened state, and 
[iio] 


To Our Loved Ones 


smallpox had recently raged, so that a number lay 
helpless on their ragged cots, too weak to raise a hand 
or take the slightest interest in any attempt at recre- 
ation. The sick prisoners on board the Jersey were 
supposed to be removed to the Hunter , the hospital 
ship, but the ship’s surgeon had brought the word that 
the hospital quarters were crowded, and thereafter his 
professional zeal had cooled so that for some time his 
visits between decks had been few and far between. 
As a matter of fact in a prison colony that averaged 
about a thousand souls, the sick and dying were 
always with the living, so that it was no uncommon 
occurrence for a man to miss a friend for a day or two, 
without knowing anything in particular of him, and 
on inquiry be told that he was dead and buried. 

But there was nothing unusual on this morning of 
the Fourth. Those who were able to be up had per- 
formed the regular tasks with something like alacrity. 
The dead had been sewed up in blankets and taken 
ashore ; the decks had been swabbed down, beds and 
bedding taken up on the spar deck and spread out to 
air in the sunshine ; hammocks had been hung out of 
the way, every inch of space between decks had been 
swept and scrubbed, and with the opening of the 
closed hatches and the entrance of a current of air 
into the polluted atmosphere, even the sick revived a 
little. 


[in] 


Dalrymple 

When the messes were called in rotation by the 
cook that morning, and the day’s allowance passed out 
to them through the narrow aperture where all were 
given their scanty rations, Robert had received the 
food for his mess of six, and as they went into the 
Gun Room, the apartment by common consent set 
apart for the use of those prisoners who had been offi- 
cers, he said : “ I’m glad to celebrate with cooked 
food for a change ; that raw stuff has been a little too 
much.” 

Matthews, a grizzled old Major, who was the oldest 
of the mess and very fond of Robert, sat up with diffi- 
culty and silentty gazed at the unsavory portion set 
before him. It was a two-thirds allowance of a sea- 
man in the British Navy, and on that day it consisted 
of one pound of biscuit, one pint of oatmeal and two 
ounces of butter, but the bread was mouldy, the oat- 
meal only half cooked, and the butter so rancid that 
only men in the extremity of hunger could swallow it. 

“ Try to eat,” urged Robert, looking anxiously at 
the haggard face of his friend. He searched among 
the fragments of bread until he found a piece less 
mouldy than the others and placed it before him. 
Matthews ate a few mouthfuls in the wordless acquies- 
cence which was common to all. 

“ I have little faith that we will be permitted to do 
anything out of the ordinary,” said a man near 
[. 12 ] 


To Our Loved Ones 

Robert. He was fearfully marked by the ravages of 
smallpox. 

“Oh, I think you’re mistaken, Barrett,” replied 
Robert. “ Nothing but a few songs and a little bluff 
at cheerfulness, just to show them that we are not 
dead, not but what we’re likely enough to be, of 
course, but there’s no harm in showing what little 
mettle we have left. I think the guard is to be Hes- 
sians to-day.” 

“ No ; that’s why it’s pretty certain to go against us. 
I caught sight of them when I was at the water cask 
just now, and they’re Refugees.” 

The announcement cast gloom over the party, for 
the men preferred either the British or the Hessians 
as guards to the hated Refugees. Then Matthews 
roused and said : “ Well, they’ve already done about 
all they can to us. We’ll give them another chance.” 

“ Oh, we’ll be all right,” said Robert, with more 
confidence than he felt. “ Ryan, where’s that juice 
we got from the sutler ? ” 

A little Irishman, who still had the remnants of a 
once bright and expressive face, went to a chest in the 
corner of the room and brought out a jug which he 
placed before Robert, his action being followed eagerly 
by the sad and sunken eyes turned on him. 

“ There are not enough tin cups to go around,” said 
Robert, “ but we can take turns. This is a little sur- 
C 1 1 3] 


Dalrymple 

prise, got up by Byan and myself, for the benefit of 
all of us. We will drink a toast.” 

He poured some of the contents of the jug into a 
cup and handed it to Matthews. The older man took 
it and wafted it under his nose as if suspecting that it 
might not be the desired fluid. Then his expression 
changed. 

“It’s the real stuff,” he said. “How did you 
manage ? ” 

“ I got some money from home on one of the bum 
boats the other day, and Byan had a little too, and we 
fixed it up with the sutler for this occasion. He’s 
suited himself about the measure, though.” He 
screwed his eye to the mouth of the jug and shook it. 
“ It’ll last for a couple of small rounds,” he said, “ and 
that’s as much as we can expect.” 

He had been pouring into the tin cups, and now all 
were served with the scanty measure. Bobert lifted 
his own and said : “ To liberty ! ” 

In a silence emphasized by every wan face, the cups 
were touched and passed. A little wine or stimulant 
was a rare boon, as it could only be purchased from 
the sutler at an exorbitant price, and it had been 
weeks since any of the famished group had tasted 
such refreshment. The bum boats were a closely 
guarded but highly prized method of communication 
with the outside world, as the prisoners were per- 
[” 4 ] 


To Our Loved Ones 


mitted to send by the men who brought them for 
money or for small supplies, tobacco, pipes or some- 
times a little tea, but the guards delivered the mes- 
sages, and the search of all articles delivered was too 
close to allow of letters being smuggled. A Long 
Island fisherman who knew Robert and the Captain 
of one of the bum boats had managed to obtain word 
of his condition and send it to his mother, and through 
him she had sent the money. It was the first touch 
with life he had had since he had been brought on board, 
and when he had wrung from the surly guard the 
news that all his family were alive and well, he could 
have wept for joy. It was the impetus from this in- 
spiring and unexpected piece of good luck that had 
led him to propose some celebration of the day. 

Under the livid skin of Matthews there rose a darker 
tint as the unaccustomed liquid warmed him. He 
looked gratefully at Robert, but said nothing until all 
had drank the toast, and then taking the cup again he 
said : “ To our loved ones ! ” 

This time no man passed the cup with dry eyes. 
The bitter sweetness of that draught sunk deep into 
the well-springs of life, and each one was sorely 
shaken. Many months of misery and semi-starvation 
had encrusted them with that terrible degradation of 
mind and spirit which is a living death. Yet, sick, 
almost starved, humiliated, denied the common decen- 

[” 5 ] 


Dalrymple 

cies of life, they were still men, and in their melan- 
choly companionship this touch of patriotism and of 
the humanities, kindled the smouldering spark until it 
leaped up and burned in the sad eyes, softened the 
hard lines of mouth and brow, and put new vibration 
into the tones of those who spoke. 

After a brief interval they drank to the Commander- 
in-Chief of the Continental forces, and then, the scanty 
draughts in which they had sipped their toasts having 
run dry, they prepared to go on deck as soon as per- 
mitted, and several of the number cleaned the Gun 
Room, carefully put away what few belongings they 
had in the chest in the corner, and not only locked it, 
but left a man to watch it, for thefts were numerous. 
News of the intended celebration had filtered through 
to the foreign colony, who were chiefly quartered on 
the lower deck, and as the officers’ mess came out of 
the Gun Room and gathered near the hatchway, many 
dark, strange faces were seen appearing from below, 
and the men talked in various tongues and gesticulated 
violently. Some of them looked as if they had sur- 
vived every variety of human suffering. The faces of 
many of them were covered with dirt ; their long hair 
and beards were matted and unkempt ; some scarcely 
had their nakedness covered with a few filthy tatters, 
that hung on them loosely and flapped scantily about 
their bony bodies. Many of these unfortunates were 
[116] 


To Our Loved Ones 


merely seamen captured on merchant ships, and were 
thus disposed of so that the vessel could be seized. 

With the grateful rush of the fresh morning air 
when the hatchways were opened, the men went above, 
and within a few minutes the upper deck was crowded. 
The ship’s officers were on the quarter-deck, as usual, 
and armed sentinels were stationed on the gangways 
on each side of the upper deck leading from the quar- 
ter-deck to the forecastle. These gangways were 
about five feet wide, and here the prisoners were al- 
lowed to pass and repass. The intermediate space 
from the bulkhead of the quarter-deck to the forecas- 
tle was filled with long spars or booms, and was known 
as the spar-deck. A barricade extended across the 
front of the quarter-deck, and projected a few feet 
beyond the sides of the ship. This was about ten feet 
high and was pierced with loopholes for musketry, in 
order that the prisoners might be fired upon from be- 
hind it, if they attempted escape. The ship’s crew 
had no communication whatever with the prisoners. 
Neither guards, officers nor any of the crew ever came 
between decks, save on a few occasions, nor were the 
captives hardly spoken to from week to week, except 
to receive orders or be cursed. Only about half a mile 
distant lay the Long Island shores, radiant now with 
summer foliage, but the freedom that smiled on them 
from those green hills was mocked by the guns that 
[” 7 ] 


Dalry??jple 

covered them. The chance of escape was reduced to 
an inappreciable quantity, yet at times it had been 
discussed in every possible shape. 

On the spar-deck the prisoners were allowed to 
walk, and as there were about a thousand on the Jersey , 
and the space small, the men formed platoons, each 
facing the same way and turning at the same time, and 
on this morning places were eagerly sought. 

The significance of the day was at once made ap- 
parent to the guards, for Robert and a friend about 
his own age by the name of Sheldon placed in a row 
along the booms thirteen small national flags. Their 
appearance was the signal for three cheers, which the 
men gave with a good will, but, though the guards 
were sullen, they gave no further sign, and affected to 
ignore the demonstration. 

There was but little men in such a situation could 
do to make a celebration, and its value consisted chiefly 
in the increased vitality and cheerfulness which per- 
meated the groups. In their almost total isolation 
from the outside world they knew not how the cause 
fared, for all reports given them by the guards were pur- 
posely false, yet, in the mysterious way in which news 
can travel, it was reported that Howe and Washington 
had had lively skirmishing in Hew Jersey, and that 
the objective point of both armies was Philadelphia. 
Robert begged Matthews to try to take some exercise, 

[ii 8] 


To Our Loved Ones 


and with him on one side and Sheldon on the other 
they joined one of the platoons on the spar-deck and 
walked up and down. Matthews had been so ill that 
they had despaired of his life, and he was still weak, 
so they did not walk long, and after several turns they 
sat on the deck and talked. 

They were deep in a discussion of Washington’s pos- 
sible movements when a man’s clear voice on the other 
side of the deck rose in one of the popular patriotic 
songs of the day. He had not reached the end of the 
first line when he was joined by scores of other voices, 
and the men sang verse after verse with relish. When 
that was ended there was some hand clapping, and 
then another voice started another song. The march- 
ing platoons joined in and kept step. 

“ God ! ” said Robert, throwing back his head, his 
eyes big with uncurbed passion, “ I’ve been on this ac- 
cursed hulk for nearly a year, and that’s the first 
cheerful sound I ever heard here.” He looked across 
at the wooded expanse that la}' so temptingly before 
them and said : “ Oh, I must get away.” 

Matthews gave him a long, warning look. “ Don’t 
get that madness in your head, my boy. Others be- 
fore you have tried to get away, and they lie over 
there.” He nodded towards the bulging mounds 
within full view where lay the bodies of the 
dead. 


Dalrymple 

“ One might as well be there as here,” said Robert, 
bitterly. 

" No ; it is better to be alive — for our loved ones.” 

He had hardly spoken when one of the guards called 
out : “ Take down these dirty rags.” He prefaced the 
command with a vile epithet and finished with an 
oath, pointing to the row of flags on the booms, where 
they were gently fluttering in the breeze. His words 
were addressed directly to a small party of men who 
were sitting near him, quietly conversing. Hot one 
moved. The guard repeated the command, this time 
with a threat. Silence had fallen on the entire com- 
pany gathered on the deck, and no one looked as if he 
heard. With an outburst of profanity, several of the 
guards attacked the flags, tore them loose, hacked 
them with their bayonets and flung the tattered bits 
on the deck and into the water. Robert, whose blood 
suddenly reached the boiling point, would have jumped 
up and ran to them but Matthews and Sheldon held 
him down, and Matthews spoke sternly : 

“ Be quiet. There is nothing we can offer but the 
silence of contempt. See ! ” 

A change had transformed the men. Each one sat 
silent and motionless, looking straight beyond and ap- 
parently unheeding. They had suffered many petty 
brutalities only to learn that safety lay but in non-re- 
sistance. 


[ 120 ] 


To Our Loved Ones 


Kobert sank back with a deep inward groan, and 
through his clenched teeth came a curse. “ Brace up,” 
said Matthews. “They can’t destroy what the flag 
means.” 


[ 121 ] 


CHAPTER X 


I Will Live ! 


OW monotones of conversation were gradually 



resumed, and a subdued murmur began to go 


around. Robert had thrown himself down on 
his back on the deck and lay staring up at the sky, 
while Matthews attempted to comfort him. 

“ Follow the line of least resistance. Nothing is 
easy here, but anything is easier than kicking against 
the pricks.” 

“ I’m done for,” said Robert, in a tone of despair. 
“ I have no strength left.” 

“ That’s where you are wrong. You have probably 
never had as much strength as you have now, only 
you don’t know it.” 

“ Who should know if I do not ? ” 

“ Those who know you better than you know your- 
self. With your nervous organization you would have 
gone under long ago and been carried out to the beach, if 
you had not had sufficient vitality to resist to the end. 
If you don’t hold on to yourself you’ll miss the secret of 
life, and you’ll be dead so long you’ll never have the 
chance to find out.” 


[122] 


I Will Live! 


“ In the name of God,” said Robert, in a deep, bitter 
tone, “ how can you think me anything but what I 
am — a wreck ! I have tried to keep up, tried to hold 
out, but it’s no use. This is hell upon earth, and I’m 
sick of it. I wish I were dead.” 

“ You think you do, but you’d call your own bluff if 
you were put to the test. Are you more a wreck than 
any of the rest of us ? Look around you. We are all 
but human skeletons, starved, degraded, poisoned in 
mind and body by this unspeakable environment, but 
we have not fallen from grace yet. Think, Robert, in 
all this time, daily invited to enlist in the King’s 
cause, offered freedom, a commission, honor and re- 
ward, not one man has ever deserted ; not one has ever 
turned traitor. Every insult that man can invent 
has been heaped upon us, and we are helpless, but our 
ranks are firm. Yonder lie the bodies of our former 
companions, who have died for the cause. The time 
will come when their bones will be collected, when 
their rites of sepulture will be performed, and poster- 
ity honor those who have died in vindication of the 
rights of man. Our jailers may call us human ver- 
min, but we are beyond their power, and they know it. 
When a people are made free many must die in loath- 
some ways, and we are penned here like rats in a trap, 
to die by inches, very likely, but at least we can die 
like men.” 


[ I2 3] 


Dalrymple 

“ I said I was willing to die,” said Robert, “ and you 
tell me to live, and then you speak of death.” 

“ True ; it is about the surest way to make one want 
to hold on to life. Choose well now, on the instant, 
are you willing to die before you rise from the deck ? ” 
The formless despair of Robert’s mood defined itself 
into sharper issues. Into the void of apparent hope- 
lessness there crept faces, voices, the swift hint of per- 
sonalities, the ties of family, friends, a towering figure 
and grave eyes which he knew belonged only to the 
Chief, and something warmer, more beautiful than even 
these — a woman’s young and lovely face — he could 
have sworn there was a light touch on his brow. He 
looked fixedly at the sky without speaking. 

“ Very well ; would you purchase life by going over 
to the enemy ? ” 

“ Damn them, they may ” 

“Never mind that. You’re all right, if you’d only 
think so.” 

“ What are you driving at anyway ? ” 

“ Only this ; most of us will die before we get out of 
this, but you are not to be one. It is your destiny 
to leave the Jersey and fight again, so save yourself 
for it.” 

“ You can bank on it, Rob,” said Sheldon. “ Mat- 
thews is our official prophet.” 

They sat without speaking for awhile, each occupied 

[t2 4 ] 


I Will Live! 


with his thoughts, and then Sheldon said : “ I think 
I’ll go below and get that hogshead stave I found 
floating in the water the other day when we buried 
Carver, and we’ll cut it up. We are about out of 
enough wood for our cooking, and our mess would soon 
be boiled in the Great Copper.” 

“ Heaven forbid,” said Robert. “ All that has saved 
us thus far is that we have somehow been able to do 
our cooking separately, until the last few days, and I 
can’t stand much more of it. Bring the sharp straight 
little knife out of the chest, John.” 

Robert sat up and Matthews resumed his pipe. To 
be able to cook their own meat was a privilege eagerly 
sought for by the prisoners. All the cooking was 
done in what was known as the Great Copper, an im- 
mense receptacle under the forecastle, enclosed in brick- 
work about eight feet square and large enough to hold 
almost three hogsheads of water. In one side of the 
enormous vessel the peas and oatmeal were boiled in 
fresh water, but the meat in the other half was cooked 
in the salt water taken from alongside the ship, and 
much of the illness on board was caused by the poison- 
ous effects of this. It was possible to purchase a little 
wood from the cook, but not enough to supply the de- 
mand, and it was the custom of the “ Burying gang ” 
w’hen they went ashore with the bodies of their com- 
rades, to try to procure any fuel they could and bring 

[125] 


T)alrymple 

it back with them for the use of their mess, and thus 
they gathered loose boards, barrel staves, bits of 
wreckage, all of which was received by their compan- 
ions as so much treasure and carefully hoarded. Af- 
terwards it was split up into sticks about four inches 
long, and the length of time a certain number of sticks 
would last was reduced to a mathematical calculation. 

The fresh water for the cooking was saved out of 
each man’s scanty allowance, the guards allowing each 
one only a pint at a time. To speak of it as “ fresh ” 
was little more than mockery, for although there was 
plenty of good water both on Long Island and in New 
York, the necessary supply for the men, about seven 
hundred gallons daily, was frequently short, owing to 
the indifference of the marines whose duty it was to 
bring it on board, and they were frequently compelled 
to use that stored in butts in the lower hold of the 
hulk, after it had run through a leather hose. The 
butts were never cleaned, and the foul sediment in 
them so polluted the water that hundreds of deaths 
were caused by it, as the men would drink it when 
half crazed by the tortures of thirst. Kobert’s mess 
had always avoided it, and though all of them had 
been ravaged by disease, none had yet died. 

The cooking was done, after wood and water were 
procured, by suspending kettles containing the meat 
from hooks driven into the brickwork by which the 
[126] 


I Will Live! 


Great Copper was enclosed, a little fire with the pre- 
cious sticks of wood being made under the bottom of 
the kettles, and each mess jealously saving the small 
brands that were left. A kettle had to be withdrawn 
instantly at the sound of the cook’s bell, and it was 
policy to conciliate him if possible, for he had been a 
prisoner, and after being assigned to his commanding 
position, had become autocratic and surly, and in sud- 
den fits of rage was wont to throw blazing embers at 
the men. 

“We are reduced to the amusements of infants or 
old women,” said Eobert, as they sat carefully cutting 
up the stave. “ Think of sitting here and whittling 
away at this. Oh, for the delight of swinging an axe 
at the roots of a tree ! Think of chopping down an 
oak ! Think of seeing the chips fly and smelling the 
odor of the wood every time you brought the axe 
down ! ” 

“ Why don’t you chop up the ship ? ” asked Sheldon. 

“ It would be murder,” said Matthews. “ The sev- 
eral hundred species of the genus cimex inhabit it. I 
am on terms of more or less familiarity with all of 
them, especially the cimex lectularis.” 

“ I always thought you a man of refinement,” said 
Eobert. “One’s intimate companions are a pretty 
sure indication of inherent tastes. Have you noticed 
anything of the kind, John ? ” 

[127] 


Dalrymple 

“Never saw any. The Major must have cultivated 
them.” 

“ If they were properly trained they might be use- 
ful. I think there are enough of them to haul the ship 
upon the beach. They could walk off with it easily if 
they would only get together. The trouble is sec- 
tional differences ; they divide up too much.” 

“ If you would get your hypothesis down to a work- 
ing basis,” began Eobert, “ it might help to settle your 
board bill, even with your extravagant extras. You 
have been luxurious about your laundry, and lavish in 
the use of fine wines and tobacco, and have clothed 
yourself in costly raiment when the rest of us have 
had to hold our rags on us to keep ourselves covered, 
and it seems to me that you might ” 

He was interrupted by a commotion behind them. 
The prisoners had gradually returned to something 
like the original spirit of the day, and by degrees after 
the flags were destroyed had resumed their conversa- 
tion, while parties again took turns in walking in pla- 
toons. Just now several men had approached one of 
the sentinels stationed on the gangway, and at the 
point of the bayonet had been forbidden, with curses, 
to walk on the usual passageway for the rest of the day. 
In the regulations made by the prisoners themselves, 
chiefly as a protection against the rough and lawless 
element inseparable from such a captive community, 
[128] 


I Will Live! 


it was expressly forbidden for any man to provoke the 
guards, to refuse to obey an order, or to offer any vio- 
lence no matter what the provocation. These restric- 
tions were especially necessary, as it was always in 
the power of the men to seize the guards and throw 
them overboard, but the guns would instantly be 
turned on them from behind the barricade, and an in- 
discriminate slaughter would ensue. 

Despite this, a number of the prisoners were always 
at the point of revolt, and, being utterly reckless of 
consequences, were likely to make trouble at any time. 
Robert saw that one of these men, Kester by name, 
instead of heeding the order was ready to attack the 
guard. Those with him promptly turned back, but 
Kester’s tall, bony form was drawn up in a menacing 
attitude. 

Robert sprang to his feet with an alacrity of action 
he had not known for months and grasped Kester just 
in time to keep his blow from striking the guard, who 
drove at him with his bayonet point, and missed his 
would-be assailant only to graze Robert’s hand enough 
to make a scratch. 

“ You have made enough trouble lately,” said Rob- 
ert, angrily, to Kester. “ Have you taken leave of 
your senses ? Apologize.” 

A round of profanity from the guard was his an- 
swer, and Kester, sharply prodded with the bayonet, 
[129] 


Dalrymple 

was ordered below. As he disappeared down the 
hatchway the guard turned on Eobert and said, sneer 
ingly : “ Pm much obliged to you for saving my life. 
I don’t know how we’d get along without you.” 

“ I regret I cannot return your compliment,” said 
Eobert. “As to saving your life, that was not my 
object.” 

With a deep imprecation the guard turned away, 
and Eobert returned to Matthews and Sheldon. “I 
think there’ll be more trouble,” he said. “ They will 
get ugly now.” 

His prediction was almost immediately fulfilled. 
All the prisoners were forbidden to pass along the 
gangways, and the drawn bayonets were a sufficient 
reinforcement of the order. No one else attempted it, 
and scarcely had the excitement caused by the inci- 
dent passed when as if by a common impulse, the men 
began singing again. The melody seemed to clear the 
surcharged air, and as the last line was finished cheers 
ascended. The hilarity was fatal. There was a heavy 
tramping of feet, the extra guards were turned out, and 
in the confused clamor that arose the hoarse and 
dreaded command was shouted for all to go below. 

“ Hold on to the wood, Major, and get down as 
quickly as possible,” said Eobert, “ while John and I 
get our bedding.” 

There was not a moment to lose. The instant the 

[ 1 30] 


I Will Live! 


prisoners heard the order and realized that they would 
at once be forced between decks several hours earlier 
than usual, pandemonium broke loose, and it seemed 
as if there would be a fight of the most desperate na- 
ture. A violent uproar filled the air ; both prisoners 
and guards were cursing ; the weak and helpless who 
were being trampled on in the sudden rush, cried out 
and begged for mercy, but without being noticed. 

The guards came on the run, with fixed bayonets, 
and drove the men before them to the hatchways, 
wounding many and pitilessly striking any within 
reach. Several in their haste to get below fell down 
the hatchway, and were injured by the mad rush that 
followed them. Much of the bedding and clothing of 
the men which had been brought up for the regular air- 
ing was left behind for the night, as only the more for- 
tunate succeeded in getting their belongings. Eobert 
and Sheldon got theirs and joined in the rush below. 
They were among the last ones down, and they had 
scarcely reached the Gun Eoom and found Matthews 
when the harsh grating of the hatches came to them 
and they knew that they were fastened in for the 
night. 

Matthews sat on his bunk, pale and panting. “I 
had the wind nearly jammed out of me,” he said, “ and 
Eve lost a couple of sticks. There were twenty-two, 
and here are only twenty now.” 

[131] 


T)alrymple 

“Never mind,” said Robert. “Here is your 
blanket.” 

“ Listen ! ” said Sheldon. “ Hell has broke loose.” 

Apparently he was right. The indiscriminate up- 
roar that came to them had that savage and indescri- 
bable quality of a mob. The men were maddened by 
being suddenly thrust into the nauseous atmosphere 
which they loathed, and they gave way to profane and 
untrammeled rage. 

“ Give me the wood,” said Sheldon. “ I’ll take care 
of it, and I’ll see if Barrett will let us have enough 
sugar for our tea to-night.” 

“ This is awful,” said Robert. “ It is only four 
o’clock. There are nearly four hours of daylight yet. 
Oh, the night ! The night ! ” He shuddered. 

Matthews did not speak. Robbed by sickness and 
the terrible privations of their life of most of the phys- 
ical attributes which six months before had made him 
a strong and handsome man, he still retained more of 
humanity than did most, and his influence was marked. 
He was old enough to be Robert’s father, and he had 
cared deeply for him from the time he first saw him. 
His affection was returned, for it was he who had 
spoken first to Robert on board and told him to cheer 
up. Now he lay back on his bunk, his face pallid and 
drawn, his eyes closed, the bones of cheek and brow 
sharply defining the outlines of his countenance, which 

[132] 


I Will Live l 


even under the ravages to which soul and body had 
been subjected, betrayed nobility and tenderness. 

Robert, drawn from his gloomy contemplation by 
the lack of a response, looked at Matthews and was 
shocked to see that he was almost in a collapse. Too 
well he knew there was but little he could do, but he 
lost no time in doing that. He ran for water, poured 
some between his lips, dampened his forehead and 
chafed his hands. In a few moments Matthews, with- 
out opening his eyes, said : “ I’m better, thank you.” 

Robert sat on the bunk by him. The noise of the 
men was dying out. Many of them were already 
engaged in eating the miserable evening meal, for, al- 
though the days were long in the outer world, dark- 
ness came soon to the unhappy colony on the Jersey , 
and after sunset no lights were allowed. The time 
dragged slowly along. Matthews, although he re- 
vived somewhat, seemed too weak to speak. Sheldon 
came back and said to Robert : 

“ I don’t know how we’ll live till morning. We 
were driven below before we could get our allowance 
of water, and no one has any to divide.” 

“ How much have we ? ” 

“ About two pints for six of us.” 

“Well, divide it into equal portions, and take half 
of mine and give to him.” He nodded towards 
Matthews. 


[ 1 33] 


Dalrymple 

“ You’ll need it yourself, Bob. There’s a little tea 
he can have. We will give him that and keep the 
water.” 

The air grew more insupportable, laden with fetid 
vapors and rendered almost unbearable by the heat. 
They got Matthews to drink some tea and swallow a 
few bites of bread, and then a thick gloom settled down 
and night came for the prisoners, although without 
the world was radiant with the glories of a glowing 
July sunset. Comparative quiet succeeded the noise 
and excitement of several hours past, but only for a 
brief period. The men began to sing again. What 
protests were made were drowned out in the volume 
of sound that ascended. The guards passing to and 
fro on the gangways, stopped to listen. As the dusk 
thickened into darkness the demonstration increased. 
It seemed as if every man on the ship were singing. 

It could not last. The inevitable command was 
shouted down to them to desist. Some obeyed ; many 
did not. The singing continued, and was interspersed 
with sporadic cheers. The efforts of those who tried 
to induce their comrades to relapse into a more pru- 
dent silence met with no success. 

It was about nine o’clock when the climax came. 
The grating of the hatchways being removed caused 
even the most reckless to pause, for never before had 
it occurred after they were shut down for the night. 

[ 1 34 ] 


I Will Live! 


The door of the Gun Room had been closed, but the 
shrieks that came to the occupants told only too 
plainly that something unusual was occurring, and 
Robert opened it. The terrible cries of men being 
wounded in the darkness came to them. The guards, 
with bayonets and cutlasses, had descended and were 
cutting and slashing indiscriminately, as far as they 
could reach. They had brought no lights with them, 
but descending to the lower deck laid about them 
with force, striking out in every direction and wound- 
ing every man who fell within range of their weapons. 

In the panic that ensued the prisoners fell back as 
far as their crowded condition would permit, but there 
was no escape for those who could be reached by the 
guards. The wounded fell on the deck, crying out in 
pain and terror, and being trampled under foot by the 
frightened men who vainly tried to escape a like fate. 
This time the guards said but little. They omitted 
even the customary curses, but made up for it by the 
violence of their attack, and the unfortunate men, 
helpless before this onslaught, and in the extremity of 
fear, cried in vain for mercy. Not until the guards 
had struck all within reach did they desist ; then, as 
their leader said : “ Perhaps you will be quiet now,” 

they withdrew to the upper deck and closed the 
hatches once more. 

The horror of that night will not bear repetition in 

C 1 35] 


Dalrymple 

detail. The meagre supply of water gave out, and the 
tortures of thirst were added to the heat of a sultry 
summer night. The groans of the wounded, the im- 
precations of the stronger who fought for a mouthful 
of water or a place near the few air-ports, the ming- 
ling of oaths and prayers, made up an inferno seldom 
equaled. Those who succumbed before morning died 
without a pitying word, a drop of water to cool their 
parched tongues, or a breath of fresh air to fan their 
temples. 

No one slept on that night, save those who became 
exhausted and fell into a stupor. Matthews seemed 
to be sinking. He was unconscious part of the time, 
and Robert could hardly discern the heart’s action by 
placing his head on his chest. There was nothing he 
could do, and in helpless misery he sat on the bunk or 
restlessly paced the short strip of space in which he 
could walk. He was beginning to suffer from thirst, 
for despite his efforts to make the water of his share 
last, he had drank it all, and his mouth and throat 
were parched. He stood it as long as he could, and 
then, in desperation, started for the door. 

“ For God’s sake don’t go out there,” said Sheldon, 
holding him back. “ It isn’t any better anywhere, and 
the men are mad.” 

“ So am I,” replied Robert, tearing himself away. 
“ I want water ! Water ! ” 

[136] 


I Will Live l 


He felt a cup pressed to his lips in the darkness, and 
a draught trickled down his throat. Realizing the full 
import of Sheldon’s act, and revived by the liquid, he 
said: “John, oh, what have you done! You have 
thrown your own life away ! ” He groaned. 

“ No ; I’ll get along all right,” said Sheldon. “ Per- 
haps they’ll give us some water after awhile.” 

“ The brutes want to finish us all this time. There’s 
no hope. I must try to get a breath of air. If I live 
I’ll come back.” 

Slowly and with the utmost difficulty and danger, 
Robert fought his way through the struggling mass of 
humanity to a position he had sometimes taken before, 
at the grating of the main hatchway, where a faint 
current of air circulated through the bars. He finally 
got a place on the larboard side of the hatchway, fac- 
ing the east, and the extremity of his suffering from 
the heat was somewhat relieved by the fresh air that 
entered, though his thirst still parched him. 

Around him were the dead, wounded and dying, the 
sick and helpless, all the living crying out in the agony 
of burning throats, and thus he passed the rest of the 
night, watching the procession of the stars through the 
narrow grating, and fighting with the last remnants of 
his strength against the thing he feared most, the de- 
thronement of his reason. At last, by an almost super- 
human effort of his will, he succeeded in fixing his at- 

C 1 373 


Dalrymple 

tention on a star whose soft whiteness held his eye, 
and crying out within himself : “ I will live ! I will 

live!” over and over, he became conscious that he 
would not give way if he could compel that idea to 
remain. Life ! Life ! The thought resolved itself into 
a tangible shape, and even in the intensity of his phys- 
ical torment the star seemed to smile on him with the 
smile of Elizabeth. Time and again he felt his brain 
reeling, and his senses floated in a dim chaos, but 
every time the face and the smile reappeared, and 
though repeatedly he slipped down into some black 
and empty space, a spark stayed alive in him and 
brought him back to life. When morning came he 
went back to the Gun Room and lay on the floor, un- 
til Sheldon was able to procure a small drink of water 
for him. The hatches were not raised until ten 
o’clock, and for the next twenty-four hours no cooked 
food was served the prisoners. 


[138] 


CHAPTER XI 


There Is No Way 



ATE in July Mrs. Fitzmorris brought a retinue 


f of servants from Philadelphia and went over 


on Long Island to her Flatbush house, and 
there she entertained all the rest of the summer and 
into the autumn, making her establishment a sort of 
social headquarters for British officers and her Tory 
friends, and under cover of a lavish hospitality laying 
plans that constantly brought Rutherford and Eliza- 
beth together. 

To Peter and Mrs. Hardy she avowed her intention 
of making the match, and if appearances counted for 
anything she seemed likely to do so, for she held the 
reins completely and Elizabeth found it impossible to 
escape the clever schemes which made them constant 
companions. Peter’s spirits rose under these flatter- 
ing prospects, and he privately informed Rutherford 
over the wine that the girl would probably see her 
damned foolishness now, and hearken to his suit. But 
Elizabeth did nothing of the kind, and Rutherford had 
difficult wooing. When the season ended Mrs. Fitzmor- 


[139] 


Dalrymple 

ris was compelled to admit that her campaign had been 
a failure, but, determined not to be balked, she accom- 
panied Peter to New York to remain until after the 
holidays. 

In December, Peter went up into Westchester 
County to see ’Squire Elliott, and on the day before 
Christmas he had not yet returned. Late in the after- 
noon when Elizabeth said that she was going to the 
house of a friend and departed with a basket, her 
aunt had no suspicion of her errand. 

“ She is the most stubborn case I ever saw,” said 
Mrs. Fitzmorris to Mrs. Hardy, as the girl went out. 

“You don’t seem to be making much headway,” re- 
plied her companion. Mrs. Fitzmorris walked to the 
window and looked out: “I wonder where she is 
going. Sometimes I think that I don’t know all of 
her movements.” 

Had she followed Elizabeth her horror would have 
been unbounded, for she walked through the lightly 
falling snow to the most dreaded prison in New York, 
the old Sugar House on Liberty Street, where hun- 
dreds of Americans were British prisoners. 

It was not the first time Elizabeth had been there. 
Often before she had managed to convey to the un- 
fortunates some food, wine, clothing, writing material 
or other relief, and her face was almost as familiar as 
that of Deborah Franklin, the devoted Quakeress, who 
[i 4 o] 


There Is No W ay 

continued her ministrations to our men until she was 
banished from the city. 

The Hessian sentry on duty at the great, barred 
door on Liberty Street grunted a surly greeting as he ad- 
mitted her and she entered the gloomy and forbidding 
bastile. But even his eyes fastened with admiration 
on her glowing beauty, and as he noted the delicate 
wreath of white where the snowflakes rested on her 
hair, he muttered to his companion : “ The prettiest 
little rebel wench that ever comes in here, but she’s a 
fool to waste her time on such lice-eaten beggars.” 

When Elizabeth had made the rounds of that dreary 
place and had left a trail of brightness by her com- 
ing, she paused on her way out to bend over an emaci- 
ated figure lying on a filthy pallet of straw on the 
floor, while he painfully gasped a message to his wife 
in her ear. Through one of the port-holes in the deep 
walls there struggled the dim yellow light of the 
dying winter day, throwing the man’s sunken features 
into sharp relief. As Elizabeth leaned over him and 
softly smoothed the hair back from his forehead, whis- 
pering assurances of compassion, Deborah approached 
and laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“God bless you both,” said the man, brokenly. 
“ You have made my last hours happy. I shall soon 
be like him.” He looked towards a still, stiff figure 
lying on the floor only a few feet away, a form that 

[HO 


Dalrymple 

would be carried out in the dead wagon in the 
morning. 

“ Thee must not give up hope,” said Deborah, gently. 
“ Thy wife and children need thee, and if thou keep- 
est a stout heart thee mayst be restored to them.” 

“ Time to leave,” said a guard, roughly, swinging a 
small lantern before the women’s faces. “ There’s too 
much coddling in here,” he added, with an oath. 

Deborah took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “We are 
going,” she said, with calm dignity, “ but, friend, I 
grieve to hear thee use the name of Christ profanely 
on His birthnight. Thinkest thou thy mother would 
be pleased to hear thee use such words ? ” 

The guard started, then, abashed, he hung his head 
and silently and respectfully attended them to the 
door. Out in the fresh air, away from the fetid odors 
of the jail, Elizabeth caught her companion’s arm 
convulsively. 

“ Oh,” she sobbed, “ think, Deborah, it is Christmas 
Eve I Oh, it breaks my heart to think of our poor 
men in there, cold, sick, and dying ! And my own 
Robert ! Even now he may be dead ! ” 

She leaned heavily on Deborah, her limbs trembling 
under her in terror. “Courage!” replied the Qua- 
keress. “ Thy Robert was a strong and brave young 
man, and he would live for thy sake. Come, we must 
hasten.” 


[142] 


There Is No Way 

They walked faster in the rapidly deepening twi- 
light, but they had gone but a few steps when a heavy 
hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder halted her, and a voice of 
authority said: “Not so fast, miss. You’re to come 
with me and see Captain Cunningham. He wants a 
word with you.” 

“ Cunningham ! ” said Elizabeth, drawing away. “ I 
have done nothing for which he would wish to see me. 
I am Miss Windham, and my uncle is ” 

" That won’t do,” broke in the Sergeant. “You’re 
under arrest and you come right along without any 
fuss.” 

“I will go with thee,” said Deborah. She slipped 
her arm within that of the girl, and in silence the 
three traversed the streets to Cunningham’s headquar- 
ters, the Provost, afterwards the Hall of Records. In 
this dreaded prison were confined the more prominent 
civil, naval and military prisoners of the British, and 
Cunningham, the Provost Marshal and a fiend incar- 
nate, delighted to parade the guard when citizens of 
distinction were brought before him, and with the 
clanging arms, the unbolting of heavy bars and locks, 
the rattling of chains and his own brutal authority 
subject the prisoner to every possible humiliation. 

Two sentinels at the door admitted them, and they 
stood before the Celt. He was drunk, as usual, and in 
an ugly mood. Around him stood several guards, and 
[MS] 


Dalrymple 

the faint illumination of candles only threw into 
more forbidding perspective the dark corridor be- 
yond. 

He leered impudently at Elizabeth. “I’ve heard of 
you,” he said, sneeringly, “ and I’m about sick of the 
lollipop you deal out to the cattle we’ve got in here. 
They’re too well treated, that’s what’s the matter with 
them, and when it comes to a lot of wenches coming 
in here and weeping and slobbering over them, it’s 
time it was stopped. Do you hear ? ” 

“ Sir,” said Elizabeth, her heart almost jumping out 
of her breast in the violence of her agitation, “ I assure 
you I have not done as you say. I have only brought 
in a few little things to relieve the sick.” 

“You’ve brought more than that,” replied Cunning- 
ham. “ Do you see this ? ” He pointed on the table 
before him to a small saw and a file. “ These were 
found not half an hour ago hidden in the straw of a 
man you had visited. Escape ! Ha ! He’ll be out of 
here before morning, but it’ll be at the rope’s end in 
the yard. O-ho!” as Elizabeth turned to Deborah 
with a cry, “ that’s all the good you’ve done. I’ve a 
mind to lock you up for bringing them.” 

The sick terror of Elizabeth’s soul was transformed 
into the energy of a proud and insulted spirit that had 
never known humiliation. She drew herself up and 
faced Cunningham haughtily. “ I did not bring them,” 
[! 44 ] 


There Is No Way 

she said, “ and I desire you to let me go at once. You 
have no right to detain me here.” 

“ What ! ” cried Cunningham, while the guards fairly 
shook in their boots. “What! You defy me, you 
huzzy ! I have a way to tame such as you.” 

Elizabeth’s blood was boiling with the epithet he 
had applied to her, and she took a step forward 
with the air of a duchess. “ There is no way,” she 
said. 

Cunningham beckoned a guard to him and said a 
few words. The man disappeared in the dismal cor- 
ridor and in a moment returned with a haggard look- 
ing young fellow clothed in rags. Cunningham played 
the card he had held in reserve. “ This man,” he said, 
“ was exchanged from the Jersey the other day, and 
this evening he was arrested for being concerned in a 
plot to burn all the ships in the Wallebocht and let the 
men escape. This letter addressed to you was found 
on him, and he says it is from Robert Dalrymple. Of 
course it is about this vile plot, and I’m going to open 
it and read it.” 

The anguished wail that burst from Elizabeth’s lips 
would have moved the compassion of any but such a 
brute. Even the hardened guards looked cautiously 
at one another in disgust. 

“ Sir,” said Deborah, “ thou art mistaken in think- 
ing the maiden brought in the things of which thee 
[ 145 ] 


Dalrymple 

accuses her. Wilt thou not let her have her letter and 
depart ? ” 

“ Silence ! ” thundered Cunningham, making a mo- 
tion to break the seal. 

“ Sir ! ” cried Elizabeth, frantic with conflicting emo- 
tions, “ sir, for the love of heaven, I beg of you not to 
read that letter. There is no plot in it. ’Tis but a 
private note to me. Oh, let me have it ! ” She held 
out her arms beseechingly, sobbing convulsively, her 
pale cheeks and staring eyes speaking of her agony. 

Cunningham smiled in derision. “ I’ll just see what 
little plans your lover is laying,” he said, “ and when 
I find out what they are I’ll send some men over to 
help him.” 

Elizabeth darted in front of Deborah to the pris- 
oner, whose eyes had not left her, and grasping his 
hand she cried : “ Oh, tell me, is Kobert alive and 

well?” 

“He is alive,” said the man, “and though he has 
been sick he is better. He sends you his love, and 
bids you be strong.” 

“ Oh, thank God ! ” faltered Elizabeth. 

Cunningham had sprung to his feet with a terrific 
oath. “ Take him back and put him in irons,” he or- 
dered. “ I’ll teach you,” he added, turning to Eliza- 
beth, but before he could finish the door swung open 
and Captain Andr6 and Colonel Kutherford entered. 

[146] 


There Is No W ay 

Elizabeth flew to them. “ Oh, take me away ! ” she 
implored. 

Rutherford, astonished, supported the girl on his 
arm saying : “ I will escort you with pleasure, Miss 

Windham, but why are you here?” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, Rutherford,” said Cunning- 
ham. “ She’s here by my orders.” 

“ Captain Cunningham,” said Andre, saluting, “ may 
I inquire if there is anything I can do for Miss Wind- 
ham ? Perhaps there is some mistake.” 

“ There’s no mistake about this letter from Dalrym- 
ple to her, and I’m going to read it.” 

The blood mounted to Andre’s brow. He was a 
gentleman, and Cunningham’s coarseness disgusted 
most of the British officers. “ Sir,” he said, “ may I 
suggest that as it is a private communication you give 
it to Miss Windham ? A love letter is scarcely con- 
traband of war.” 

Elizabeth’s blush gave Rutherford a jealous qualm, 
but he felt like striking Cunningham, who covered 
Elizabeth with a look from which she shrank. The 
Provost was so drunk that he was taking on a jovial 
edge. He bowed uncertainly. “ I’m always polite to 
the ladies,” he asserted, “especially when they’re 
young and pretty. I only wanted to scare you, miss, 
to teach you a lesson, and I ought to lock this letter 
up, but if you promise not to come here again I 
[ 147 ] 


T)alrymple 

may give it to you. What do you say, Ruther- 
ford ? ” 

It was a hard moment for the Colonel. He was 
madly in love with Elizabeth, and he would have given 
much to destroy the hated missive, but while he hesi- 
tated, as torn as Othello, Elizabeth’s soft voice uttered 
a plea. 

“ Oh, Colonel Rutherford, say yes ! Do you forget ? 
It is Christmas Eve, and Robert’s letter is the only 
gift I wish.” She clasped her hands and fixed her 
lovely eyes pleadingly on his. He yielded, no man 
could do less, and said: “By all means let Miss 
Windham have her Christmas gift.” 

The Provost got out of his seat with some difficulty, 
and steadied himself while he attempted to hand the 
letter to Elizabeth. Before her trembling hands could 
grasp it a rush of cold air from the opening of the 
outer door filled the room, and, heralded by a vigor- 
ous announcement that he must see Cunningham at 
once, Peter Simpson came striding in and crossed the 
room with great steps. The sudden current of air 
blew the letter out of the Provost’s hands, en transit 
to Elizabeth, and with the perversity of things inani- 
mate it fell directly at Peter’s feet. He picked it up, 
unheeding the cry that fell on his ears as Elizabeth 
fled towards him. 

“ What does this mean ? ” fairly roared Peter, as his 
[148] 


There Is No W ay 

niece clung to him sobbing. “ Elizabeth, why are you 
here ? And this ! ” He looked at the writing. 
“ What ! A letter to you from that puppy ! By 
heaven ! ” he turned to Cunningham, “ can I believe 
my senses? Why is my niece here in this place, 

where no one but ” he paused, his eye falling for 

the first time on Andre and Butherford. “ Gentle- 
men, I bid you good-evening. This seems to be an 
unusual holiday-making, and not of my choice.” He 
turned again to Cunningham, and with voice and man- 
ner of authority said: “I demand to know the rea- 
son of this proceeding at once. Answer me, why is 
Miss Windham here ? ” 

Peter Simpson was a man to sober even the Provost. 
His brain had cleared a little, and he dimly realized 
that he had been much confused by the fumes of 
liquor when he sent his henchmen for Elizabeth, being 
urged to the act by the discovery of the letter. He 
knew now that he had gone too far, and he knew too 
that it would be hard to placate Peter. 

“ Miss Windham is free to depart,” he said, “per- 
fectly free, I assure you, and ” 

“Free to depart!” shouted Peter. “Free to de- 
part ! ” He laughed sardonically. “ I’m much obliged 
to you for your permission. You’re only too glad to 
have her depart now that I’m here. She will go with 
me without delay, and if she’s been here without good 
[M9] 


Dalrymple 

cause you shall answer for it. Now, for the last time, 
I ask you why ? ” 

The Provost grasped within himself at such rem- 
nants of his power and authority as presented them- 
selves to his mind at that critical moment. The 
ill-concealed contempt of the guards and officers pene- 
trated even his coarsened senses. 

“You need not excite yourself,” he said, “you for- 
get that nowadays we sometimes find treason where 
least we expect it, and it is my duty to guard against 
it. You hold in your hand a letter to your niece from 
Robert Dalrymple, a prisoner on board the Jersey , 
and I received information only an hour ago that it 
related to a plot to burn all the ships in the East 
River and let the men escape, and Miss Windham was 
merely sent for to be questioned regarding it.” 

“Oh, Uncle Peter, it is not so, it is not so!” said 
Elizabeth, passionately. “ He accused me of bringing 
in a file to a man in the Sugar House, and he only 
threatened to read the letter to tame me, as he him- 
self said.” 

Cunningham gasped. Andre and Rutherford ex- 
changed significant glances. Elizabeth was no longer 
a terrified and helpless girl, but once more the petted 
beauty, who knew herself under the protection of an 
able-bodied guardian. Cunningham, who had only the 
ideas of a brute about women, had looked to see her 
[ 150 ] 


There Is No Way 

swoon on bis account of the letter, and his heavy jaw 
dropped aimlessly as he saw her turn her lovely, tear- 
filled eyes beseechingly to her uncle. Peter scowled 
threateningly. 

“I’ll keep the letter,” he said. “I’m as good a 
judge of treason as you are, Mr. Provost, and a better 
of manners. If there’s a plot in this letter you shall 
know it within the hour, and if there isn’t it will be 
safe with me. And, hark you, sir, the women of my 
household are not to be invited to your jail drawing- 
room in future. I answer for them and their conduct, 
and when you have complaint to make it is to be made 
to me.” 

He looked inquiringly towards Deborah, who 
throughout the scene had stood quietly, watching all 
without a sign of perturbation. “ It is Mistress Deb- 
orah Franklin,” said Elizabeth. “She came hither 
with me when I was arrested.” 

Peter winced at the last word, but bowed formally 
to the Quakeress. “ I am under obligations to you, 
madam. Permit me to escort you home with my 
niece.” 

“ One moment, Uncle Peter,” Elizabeth’s voice rang 
out clearly. She drew herself up, and with flashing 
eye and accusing finger pointing directly at Cunning- 
ham, she said : “ He dared to insult me. He called 

me huzzy.” As she uttered the word a wave of crim- 

[i5i] 


T)alrymple 

son rushed over her face, and her chaste young body 
fairly burned with the shameful epithet that had been 
applied to her in the presence of the rough guards. 
Andre and Rutherford were speechless, while even 
into the dove-like eyes of the Quakeress there came a 
brighter gleam. 

Cunningham started back, terror-stricken, and not a 
moment too soon, for with an inarticulate cr} 7- of fury 
Peter sprang at him and made a sweeping blow at his 
head with a heavy walking cane. Two of the guards 
rushed in between them, and warded the stroke enough 
to make it descend on Cunningham’s shoulder with 
sufficient force to make it lame for several days. At 
the same instant, for the sake of avoiding violence be- 
fore the women, the two officers laid hold of Peter, 
who was breathing heavily, his face purple and his 
brow covered with huge drops. For a brief moment, 
in the arrested action, there was a tense silence in the 
gloomy room, broken only by the hoarse respirations 
of the two men, Peter glaring furiously and the Celt, 
chilled to the heart with fear, cowering like any 
craven. Peter was the first to collect himself. 

“Release me,” he said, and after a hurried, whis- 
pered admonition from Andre, they did so, while Cun- 
ningham shook himself loose from the guards. Peter 
spoke in a voice rough with rage and contempt. 

“ The reason why I do not have you apologize to my 
[ 152 ] 


There Is No JVay 

niece on your knees for your insult is that you are a 
piece of carrion and not fit to speak to any decent 
woman. You will answer to me with your life if you 
ever so much as look at her again.” He turned to 
Andre and Rutherford : “ Gentlemen, remember you 

dine with us to-morrow. I bid you good-evening.” 
He offered Elizabeth his arm. 

“ Good-night, Deborah,” said Elizabeth. She curt- 
sied to the officers, and swept Cunningham with a look 
of scorn. Rutherford and Andre bowed deeply, and 
Andr6 said to Deborah : “ Madam, let me escort you 

home,” an offer which the Quakeress courteously de- 
clined, and while Peter gave unwilling ear for a 
moment to Cunningham’s tardy protestations, Ruther- 
ford whispered in Elizabeth’s ear: “I wish you a 
merry Christmas. To-night I shall write you a love 
letter in place of the one you have not yet received.” 

“Spare yourself the trouble,” replied Elizabeth. 
“ It is quite certain that I shall read it before I sleep, 
and then I shall forget all the other letters in the 
world. Gentlemen, a merry Christmas to you.” 


[ 153 ] 


CHAPTEK XII 


At Army Headquarters 

R UTHERFORD had found to his chagrin on 
the next day that Elizabeth had indeed been 
given the letter to read. As the price of the 
concession from Peter she had to let him read it first, 
but fortunately it proved to be only a few lines, scrib- 
bled ih pencil, breathing love and fidelity and saying 
nothing of any plan to burn ships and attempt to escape. 

An unprecedented storm had broken on her head 
when on reaching the house Peter had thoroughly 
gone to the bottom of the whole matter, Elizabeth’s 
unsuspected visits to the prisoners in the Sugar House 
and her disposition of Peter’s choice wine, her determi- 
nation to associate with “ rebels,” even if she had to 
go into jails and be arrested to do it, and, if these high 
crimes and misdemeanors were not enough, to have 
letters sent her from the very stronghold where noth- 
ing was supposed to escape. Peter was furious with 
the episode of the evening, and the fact that he had 
protected her from Cunningham in nowise diminished 
the wrath he visited on her for her actions. Mrs. 
Hardy and Mrs. Fitzmorris joined in with violent re- 
[ 154 ] 


At Army Headquarters 

bukes, horrified beyond words that such a scandal had 
originated in their staid and conservative household, 
and the commotion that raged in full force for over an 
hour made a memorable Christmas Eve for the girl. 
Peter’s ordinary outbursts were only skin deep, and 
frequently went no further than a few sporadic oaths, 
but his fury on this evening was of a different order, 
and for the first time Elizabeth trembled. 

At last she had promised not to go to the prisons any 
more, and then, her overtaxed nerves giving way un- 
der the strain, she burst into tears and cried out: 
“ Oh, I am so miserable ! Please don’t scold me any 
more ! ” 

Peter relented. He drew the sobbing girl gently 
on his knee, and with grave authority had soothed 
her, and then, because it was the evening of the 
holiday he had always made a red letter day for her, 
he had given the note to her, after making sure that 
it contained no deadly plot. This latter, indeed, was 
not an idle fear, for such a plan was several times 
thwarted while the prison ships were used. Mrs. Fitz- 
morris and Mrs. Hardy were thoroughly scandalized, 
and remained unreconciled to Peter’s gentler attitude 
for some days. Elizabeth’s life was made a burden to 
her, and it was with joy she saw her great-aunt de- 
part for Philadelphia, accompanied by Andr6 and 
Rutherford. 


[ 155 ] 


Dalrymple 

Elizabeth had recovered her poise during the night, 
and when she appeared at dinner on the following day 
and greeted the guests, she was in radiant spirits, and 
fairly bloomed with joy. The few tender words she 
had received from Robert, the assurance of his un- 
broken affection, had exhilarated her with the elixir 
of life, and she was so buoyant that Mrs. Fitzmorris 
cast more than one disapproving glance at her. 

Rutherford had no occasion to be flattered by her 
treatment of him. Under the keen espionage of Peter 
and the two women, Elizabeth was obliged to make a 
show of great pleasure in his society, but she cut him 
in a woman’s subtle manner, and made him feel that 
Andre was more agreeable to her, and Andre, though 
he carried the miniature of his own faithless sweet- 
heart in his bosom to the day of his death, had a warm 
and romantic appreciation of women, and he gallantly 
threw himself into the breach and devoted himself to 
making an impression until Rutherford would gladly 
have spitted him. 

Late in the afternoon, when the women had with- 
drawn after dinner and the men were alone with their 
wine, Peter had explained how a letter had been con- 
veyed from the Jersey. After all the vigilance of the 
guards it had been done in a simple way. When the 
exchange of prisoners had taken place the men who 
were to go had been carefully searched as usual, and 

[156] 


At Army Headquarters 

when nothing had been found on them they had been 
escorted to the head of the accommodation ladder 
whence they were to descend into the small boats 
where, with guards from the Jersey and the officers, 
who had come with the transfer papers, they were 
to be taken ashore. At the last moment Robert, pre- 
tending that he had forgotten to send a small list of 
things to be purchased, ran up to one of the guards 
and asked permission to give it to some one. The 
guard saw only the names of a few articles and 
granted his request, and Robert had palmed the list and 
slipped into the hand of an officer the little note. The 
exchanged prisoner had taken it in charge to deliver, as 
he had a permit to enter the city, but he had been ar- 
rested within forty-eight hours, and Elizabeth had 
happened to visit the Sugar House that very after- 
noon. 

“ It shows what can happen,” concluded Peter, “ and 
it is quite evident that a stricter watch should be kept. 
It should be impossible for such a thing to take place.” 

“You are right,” replied Rutherford, with sincere 
unction. “It is almost incredible that a trick like 
that could be worked under the very eyes of vigilant 
guards. I shall report the matter and you may rest 
assured it will not occur again. That fellow Dal- 
rymple is a dangerous man, at liberty or otherwise.” 

“ He is clever and unscrupulous. As for the guards, 
[ 157 ] 


Dalrymple 

I can’t say I think they were so vigilant. There 
might be an improvement in that respect.” 

“I have offered to write Miss Windham a letter 
every day if she will show as much anxiety as she did 
about this missive,” said Andre. He had slyly tanta- 
lized Rutherford all through the dinner, and enjoyed 
the fun he got out of it. 

“ I could wish,” said Peter, “ that the letter had in- 
deed been from you, sir. I assure you that if you 
write I shall not insist on reading it first, as I did this 
one.” 

Rutherford got no satisfaction from Elizabeth be- 
fore he left the house that afternoon, and between 
her gay and coquettish mood and the quiet jibes of 
Andre he was inwardly chagrined before he made his 
adieux. He kept his promise to Peter to report the 
matter to such good purpose that the entire prison col- 
ony was for weeks subjected to a more rigorous treat- 
ment than usual. Of this Elizabeth knew nothing, 
and she also had her fears as to the real condition of 
Robert’s life considerably relieved, for he had said in 
the note that he wanted for nothing and was well ! 

Mrs. Fitzmorris left a few days later, after first de- 
livering a severe lecture to Elizabeth, advising her of 
the evil of her ways, and counseling her to accept 
Rutherford’s attentions in the spirit in which they 
were offered. Privately, to Peter, she said that the 
[' 58 ] 


At Army Headquarters 

girl seemed to be on the road to ruin, and that the 
best thing to do would be to hasten Rutherford’s 
courtship by every possible means and get her safely 
married before she would precipitate an open scandal 
of some kind. 

Andre and Rutherford, making their farewell calls, 
urged Elizabeth to accept Mrs. Fitzmorris’ invitation 
and come over to Philadelphia, where she would have 
a round of gayety even better than in New York. 

“ I assure you we have had very good times,” said 
Andre. “We have given private theatricals and 
dances and assemblies and balls, and though you have 
had all these here you may believe me that they have 
not possessed the true flavor, for at army headquarters 
we are better able to entertain. You must come over, 
Miss Windham.” 

“ I am going to have her come soon,” said Mrs. Fitz- 
morris, answering for her, “ and I will give a ball for 
her.” 

“ I speak for the first dance,” said Rutherford to 
Elizabeth. 

“ And I for ail the rest,” said Andre, “ so your card 
is full now.” 

Before Rutherford came back it was the end of 
February, and there was a hint of spring. At the 
patriot headquarters at Yalley Forge there had 
been something like festivity since the arrival of Mrs. 
[ 1 59 ] 


Dalrymple 

Washington, and the attempt at social life had been 
quite successful. The Chiefs wife was installed in a 
log addition, built expressly for her, and it had a rude 
comfort of its own, quite adapted to Mrs. Washing- 
ton’s simple tastes, for though she was a stickler for 
the forms of social etiquette, she had not the discern- 
ment in many household affairs that he had, and his 
wonderful genius for detail was fully displayed in the 
minute directions he always gave, usually in writing, 
to his secretaries, clerks and butlers as to the disposi- 
tion of draperies, pictures, rugs, and all bric-a-brac, and 
the china closet was his particular pride. He knew 
the pattern of every dish, and after the Revolution, 
when he became President, a great deal of the old 
family plate was melted and made over in a less mass- 
ive design selected by him. 

Lady Stirling and the vivacious Lady Kitty, the 
wives of General Greene and General Knox, and two 
daughters of Governor William Livingston were addi- 
tions to the group at headquarters and with the French 
gentlemen of rank who had joined the army and the 
great Steuben, Frederick’s famous disciplinarian, life 
was somewhat relaxed from the terrible severity that 
had prevailed during the early days of the winter. A 
number of dinners were given, and the Chief unbent 
considerably under the mellowing influence of his gay 
and active } r oung staff officers, who left no stone urn 
[160] 


At Army Headquarters 

turned to make life enjoyable, both for themselves and 
their guests. 

Steuben was the wonder of the camp. He was of 
princely bearing, and was richly dressed on all occa- 
sions. He had been the intimate associate of poten- 
tates and noblemen, and the half-frozen, thinly-clad 
men of the rank and file were divided between awe 
and fascination. When he arrived, accompanied by 
an imposing suite of aides, one of whom was Major 
L’Enfant, he and his party were objects of intense in- 
terest. As the brilliant cavalcade swept through the 
little village of miserable huts where the American 
army was encamped, the wind flapping the tattered 
outfit of many, and the bare and frozen feet of others 
resting on the snow without covering, the cheers which 
fell on the ears of the baron were in marked contrast 
to the surroundings. 

That evening he had dined at the right of the Chief, 
the guest of honor at a dinner in a log cabin, but with 
all the state of a formal function manifest in the vi- 
ands and the serving, the presence of the women and 
the sparkle of jewels making a strange contrast of lux- 
ury and squalor, and the effect had drawn from him 
warm compliments. 

Washington needed just such a man sorely, and he 
at once filled a place hitherto vacant. With all his 
dignity and imperiousness he was as practical as a drill 


Dalrymple 

sergeant. He was up before daylight, and at sunrise 
was in the saddle, usually alone, as his methods were 
beyond most of his aides. He rode to the parade 
ground, and put the men through a manual of arms 
that made them pant for breath, and when their intel- 
ligence was not equal to that of his own — a discipli- 
narian famous in all continental Europe! — he swore 
at them. Swore roundly and profusely in French and 
German, then in inadequate English, and then in all 
three at once, while the stupefied squads helplessly 
twisted their bare toes in the snow. But he was gen- 
erous, warm hearted and magnetic, and he soon ac- 
quired an ascendency over the men. He looked after 
them in sickness, supervised their treatment by the 
officers, took measures which improved their lodging, 
and, above all, he began to make real soldiers out of 
the almost hopeless raw material which Washington 
had to use, and taught them that it was their duty to 
obey and not grumble, for he drilled and drilled, mer- 
cilessly and profanely. 

Tallmadge was at Yalley Forge. He had known 
nothing of Robert for months. Then, early in Febru- 
ary, he heard the story of the Christmas Eve episode 
through a letter written by Nellie Musgrove to her 
sweetheart in camp. Jennings read the letter, or that 
part of it to Tallmadge, and the latter told Washing- 
ton that evening. The Chief listened attentively. 

[162] 


At Army Headquarters 

“ I am sorry for Lieutenant Dalrymple,” he said. 
“ I just missed getting him exchanged on the last list, 
as his rank did not fit the requirements for the men 
we were to send back. The exchanging has been slow 
and unsatisfactory, but I hope to get him off of the 
Jersey this spring. If you send any word to Miss 
Windham, remember me to her with my most respect- 
ful compliments.” 

The Dalrymples, or the feminine portion, were at 
Flatbush that winter. The men of the household 
were scattered. Robert’s father was with the army 
in Canada ; one brother was stationed on Long Island 
and another had been sent South. His mother and 
two little sisters were once more at their former resi- 
dence place, though not in their own house. They 
had old friends for neighbors, David Matthews, the 
Yan Hornes, Augustus Yan Cortland t, David Clark- 
son, Jacob Suydam, Major Moncreiff, Theophylact 
Bache and others as well known to the Royalists as 
they were to the “ rebels.” Sir Henry Clinton’s expe- 
ditions sent from Hew York had greatly exasperated 
the citizens of all the surrounding country, and maraud- 
ing parties, about as many on one side as on the other, 
were almost daily sent out and kept the country ter- 
rorized. Hew Jersey had been ravaged ; Tarrytown 
and Dobbs’ Ferry were overrun ; the Hessians were 
plundering right and left; at Buzzards’ Bay American 

[163] 


T>alrymple 

vessels had been captured, churches had been destroyed, 
villages pillaged, the flames of burning barns lit the 
sky by night, the British soldiery were guilty of rob- 
bery and rapine ; storehouses and dwellings were ruth- 
lessly attacked and destroyed and great quantities of 
sheep and cattle were stolen. It was a year of whole- 
sale plundering, burning and sacking. The Tories 
complained of their own men. A noted Boyalist in 
Dutchess County went over to the “ rebels ” because a 
party of Hessians stopped him in the road, unhitched 
his horses and took them and left him to get home as 
best he might. 

In Hew York City the second year of British occu- 
pation was not as pleasant as the first. Even the 
wealthiest inhabitants felt the pinch of war. Peter 
could not collect rents. Some of his valuable property 
outside of the city had been seized and “ rebels ” were 
quartered in it. He had lost heavily by the great fire 
of almost two years since, and he was not as rich as 
when the rebellion had started, that “ insurrection ” 
which was to be put down within sixty days. Peter 
himself was more a Tory than ever, but his income 
was not so large, and his bank account was smaller. 

Many of his friends were faring no better. The 
property of a number of Royalists fell into the hands 
of the colonists, and attacks and counter raids were so 
numerous that it was no uncommon thing for a house 
ii6 4 ] 


At Army Headquarters 

to be occupied by a family of Tories one night, cap- 
tured by “ rebels ” for the next and regained a few 
days later by another Tory party who would suddenly 
swoop down and drive the invaders out into the night. 

The editors of the Tory newspapers, led by Kiving- 
ton’s Royal Gazette , published statements calculated 
to add to the prevailing spirit of insecurity and discon- 
tent. They declared that Connecticut was in confu- 
sion throughout her borders, that in Maryland only 
forty recruits had responded to the call of the Con- 
gress for more men ; that fevers were raging in Phila- 
delphia and other cities; that the entire South was 
weary of the struggle, and only awaited British succor 
to throw off the yoke of rebel oppression ; that Boston 
was starving; that there was not a piece of silver 
money in all the Southern States, and that the rebel 
army “ was such a set of miserable, ragged creatures 
as was never scraped together before.” 

In New York conditions grew worse and worse. 
On the site of the great fire of 1776 a strange village 
of huts had sprung up known as “ Canvas Town,” as 
the ruins left were covered with canvas roofs, with 
small tents pitched here and there, and temporary 
shelters of boards thrown together. Here were gath- 
ered the banditti of the town, dissipated soldiers, high- 
waymen, escaped convicts and tough characters of 
every description, and these were visited after night- 


Dalrymple 

fall by disreputable women, and indulged in orgies and 
debauches that made night hideous. Respectable citi- 
zens remained within doors in the evening, or, if 
obliged to go out, were attended by a body-servant 
and a guard. The rich had lost much ; the poor were 
in a wretched, poverty-stricken condition. In the old 
Dutch churches and in the Sugar House the prisoners 
starved, sickened and died, the dead being thrown into 
pits without any burial rites. The philanthropic at- 
tempted to relieve the distress of the prisoners, but 
many times an armed sentinel would turn back the 
proffered gifts of the charitable. Cunningham, the 
Provost, and David Sproat, the Commissary of Pris- 
oners, amassed fortunes by stealing from the funds ap- 
propriated for the men. 

Ho one, irrespective of party or rank, escaped the 
general sense of privation. The Crugers had lost six 
houses in the fire, Gerardus Duyckink seven, William 
Bayard six houses and stores, and Peter Mesier fifteen 
buildings. Gerardus Stuyvesant resided in state in 
the old mansion of the family, and his sons were prom- 
inent in local affairs. Frederick Philipse, the third 
lord of Philipse Manor, was generous and public spir- 
ited and gave freely to relieve the want of the poor. 
Andrew Hamersley, a vestryman of Trinity, did much 
good in an unostentatious manner. He had been ex- 
tremely wealthy, but the war so impaired his fortune 
[166] 


At Army Headquarters 

that only the inheritance of an estate in the West In- 
dies rehabilitated it. 

Under these conditions, and with the additional 
drawback of a severe winter, the rest of the season 
went by. Elizabeth kept her promise to Peter not to 
visit the prisons again, but her interest in that subject 
was too acute for her generous instincts to be entirely 
suppressed. She continued her friendship with the 
noble and devoted Deborah Franklin, and found ways 
to convey to her a number of small delicacies which 
were distributed in the prisons. For it was a time 
honeycombed with currents and counter-currents; 
families divided and surreptitious methods employed 
by at least one-third of all the population, fathers and 
sons in the different armies, rebel sweethearts eloping 
with Tory lovers, and Royalist husbands watching 
wives whom they suspected of secretly favoring the 
despised and hated cause. 

Elizabeth had comparative peace while Rutherford 
was out of the city. Other suitors came and went, 
but none gave her the trouble of pressing so far as her 
uncle’s favorite had done, and she was thankful. But 
with Rutherford’s return in February things were 
changed back to the old order at once. He had been 
reinforced in Philadelphia by Mrs. Fitzmorris, and at 
the first opportunity he had begged Elizabeth to marry 
him in the spring. He had met with refusal, and then 
[ i 6 7 ] 


Dalrymple 

Feter had made a determined effort to change her 
wish, but in vain. Mrs. Hardy, after useless expostu- 
lations, declared that she was tired of the whole mat- 
ter and would wash her hands of responsibility, though 
she did it in a way that did not make life any easier 
for the girl, as she was a woman who was an adept in 
the art of constant insinuation and suggestion that was 
like so many pin pricks. 

Kutherford apparently paid no heed to her refusal, 
but continued to devote himself to her, and for the 
rest of the winter and into the spring she was obliged 
to accept his attentions and to endure his tacit air of 
the favored lover. Peter also intimated that in June 
she was to wed him, and so the time slipped along to 
April. 


[168] 


CHAPTER XIII 


H 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

’ OW are you now, John ? ” 

“ Almost done for.” 

“ No you’re not. Brace up, man. Hold 
on a little longer. We won’t be here forever.” 

“ Ho, Robert, not forever, and I shall not be here 
long. I have wanted nothing but death for many 
weeks. Ah, Rob, think how sweet it will be, to be 
out of this pestilential hole, asleep in a cool, clean, dry 
place, tormented by no hideous sights and sounds, at 
the mercy of no thrice-accursed brute. Oh, the sand 
will feel good to me when the burying gang takes me 
ashore and shovels me under. Try to get on that 
gang, Rob, and don’t bury me deep. I want to feel 
the rain trickle down through the earth on me and 
smell the air and feel the sunshine. Oh-h!” He 
stretched his long, bony legs on the tattered blanket 
and threw out his arms. 

Robert leaned over the filthy bunk, and carefully 
squeezing out a little water on a rag from a small ket- 
tle he pressed it on Sheldon’s forehead, whose eyes 
were bandaged, and whose face was swollen and 

t l6 9l 


Dalrymple 

blistered. When he had asked the ship’s cook for a 
light for his pipe that morning, the surly beast had 
thrown a shovel full of red hot coals in his face. 

Robert was so shockingly changed that it was al- 
most impossible to recognize him. He had survived 
the horrors of life on board the prison ship for a year 
and a half, and was a marvel to many in that com- 
munity of wretchedness, where three months was said 
to be the limit most could endure before they suc- 
cumbed. The resources of a splendid physique, a 
tenacious will and a determination to live for the girl 
he loved had sustained him through the appalling 
ordeal of captivity, tenfold cruel to one whose muscles 
ached for life in the open, for conflict, for action. 

Nothing of misery had been spared him in that 
charnel house. While slowly recuperating from the 
effects of his wounds at the battle, he had been at- 
tacked by the smallpox, though fortunately it left 
him unscarred, and when, months later, after fighting 
with all his strength against the foul air, the impure 
water, the rotten food, the loathsome and degrading 
surroundings that seared his very soul, the ship fever 
had ravaged him, his companions thought him doomed. 
Yet he recovered, and, though fearfully altered, he 
had gained some mysterious power of resistance that 
did not again forsake him. 

“ I am seasoned he had said to Sheldon, the cook’s 

[>7°] 


I Have Brought Ton a Gift 

victim. “ There are degrees in hell, and I have taken 
them all. Now the worst is over.” 

He had conquered at a terrible cost. He had lost 
forty pounds, and his six feet looked painfully emaci- 
ated in the filthy garments that scarcely covered him 
decently, but his blonde head was still well set above 
his broad shoulders, and though the blue eyes were 
hollow and the cheek bones sharp, his face was still 
fine and expressive. 

Day by day, in that human inferno he had seen his 
companions become brutalized until, descending 
through successive grades of physical and moral deg- 
radation, they had become lost to every sensation save 
the most hardened selfishness. Robert himself had 
been tainted with the same deadly poison that had 
sapped the manhood of many of his fellows, and 
through the long and terrible winter months, pinched 
with bitter cold, denied light at night, surrounded by 
fierce, gaunt creatures who became wolfish in their 
hunger and stole the last maggoty crust from a dying 
comrade, he had cursed God and wished for death. 
Physical and mental suffering tortured him until every 
sensation was merged in a peculiar stupor, and he ex- 
isted for days at a time in an atrophied, semi-conscious 
condition, pierced at intervals by the two ideas that 
never escaped him wholly — Elizabeth and liberty I 
Robert had for a few days past felt a return of some- 


TJalrymple 

thing like a little of his old spirit. It was spring and 
warm, but though the air was balmy its fresh odors 
could not penetrate between decks of the Jersey 
where he sat by his mutilated friend, for in addition 
to the fact that over a thousand men were packed like 
cattle on a ship-of-the-line that had carried four hun- 
dred men, the port-holes had all been closed, and in- 
stead two tiers of small holes, each about twenty 
inches square and ten feet apart had been cut in the 
ship’s sides. These were guarded by two strong iron 
bars crossing at right angles, and through these aper- 
tures came some light by day, while by day and night 
they were the breathing holes, as the men were fast- 
ened down at sunset every day. 

The Jersey was moored in the Wallebocht, or Wale 
boght, in the East Kiver, on the site of the present 
Navy Yard in Brooklyn, about a quarter of a mile 
from shore, and as she swung sullenly, tugging at her 
heavy chain cables as if groaning with her polluted 
load, the pallid faces of the men could be seen peering 
from the air-holes, gazing longingly towards Long 
Island, now green with the first tender verdure of 
spring, or looking mournfully at the nearer view pre- 
sented to their eyes, the significant piles of earth on 
the beach. New ones were made every day, and he 
who turned the sod for a comrade one morning might 
have his own pain-racked body laid by him the next. 

[172] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

The crowding of the men and the utter lack of any 
of the ordinary decencies of life defy description. It 
was an earthly inferno, with every bestial influence 
rife in the polluted air and reeking in the vermin- 
infested rags of the men. All were reduced to a com- 
mon level of unspeakable degradation, save a few who 
by virtue of stronger recuperative powers and superior 
morale redeemed the mass somewhat. 

Eobert was one of these. He had been whelmed in 
torpor during the last months of the winter, but with 
the return of spring a faint elixir of life had once 
more coursed through his veins, and as day after day 
he saw the green on the Long Island shore grow and 
freshen, the madness that comes at least once to every 
captive with the glamour of reality, the hope of escape, 
became a fixed idea. Armed sentinels stood at the 
gangways; on the upper deck a bristling range of 
guns pointed to larboard. The captain and every 
officer of the ship were armed, and if the rash captive 
escaped bullets and death by drowning, there remained 
the prospect of starving in the woods or capture by 
the British outposts or dragoons scouring the country 
for fugitives. Yet he not only harbored the thought 
but had entered into plans for its completion, and it 
made an undercurrent in his mind as he continued his 
ministrations to John Sheldon, who had become like a 
brother to him. The sufferer stretched out his 
[ r 73] 


Dalrymple 

cramped body as though already feeling the welcome 
embrace of the sod, and Robert said : 

“I’ll not be on that gang, John, for two reasons, 
you won’t need me, because you’re going to get well, 
and I won’t be here. We’re sawing through all right, 
and then I’ll go. But I’ll not forget j^ou, John, you 
know that. I’ll go straight to His Excellency and 
have you exchanged. God forgive me, it seems as if 
Washington and every one else has forgotten us, and 
leaves us here to die, but it won’t last. The end is 
coming ; I feel it.” His voice had a peculiar reedy 
sound, from weakness, but in his blue eyes burned an 
unnatural fire. He was only as nearly sane as any 
man can be under the dominion of an impossible idea. 
The face of the burned man did not change. Swollen 
and scorched, it was fixed in hideousness, but as Rob- 
ert gazed at it with stirrings of anguish it looked 
beautiful to him. Sheldon felt about with his hand. 

“ Where are you, Robert ? Promise me something. 
Don’t try to escape. Don’t take your hand away. I 
mean what I say. It is different for me. I have 
nothing to live for. I’ve told you about it. When 
she married Charlie, my twin brother, there was noth- 
ing left for me. And next to Lucy, Charlie was the 
one I have loved the most. Somehow I always 
seemed older than he, and when we were little I used 
to give up to him, and it isn’t any different now. ‘ To 
[' 74 ] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath 
not shall be taken even that he hath.’ I have nothing 
more left to give, but you, you, Rob, why, there’s 
everything left for you ! She still loves you, she is 
true to you, and you are the only man on board the 
Jersey who ever smuggled a letter to his sweetheart. 
And you talk of escape ! Why, you ” 

Robert tenderly pushed back the hair from the 
forehead of his companion. “I wouldn’t talk if I 
were you, John. Just keep quiet and try to sleep a 
little.” 

“ I know what you mean, Rob. But you’re crazy. 
Six inches of oak planking to saw through, every 
officer of the ship watching for plans to escape all the 
time, and a thousand chances against one for you to 
succeed. I’ve talked it all over with Matthews.” 

“ I know, John, and so have I. But it’s too late now, 
and as I’ve explained to you it’s entirely practicable. 
We will wait for a dark night, a rainy one will be 
better, and then the ten of us will get away. We 
will strip and fasten our clothes in a tight roll on our 
shoulders, drop through one by one and swim for the 
shore and after we get there it will be every man for 
himself. I know the topography of the country per- 
fectly, and have given full directions to each one. I 
tell you it’s safe, John. Every man of us is a good 
swimmer, and you know yourself that bullets will fly 
[' 75 ] 


Dalrymple 

wild in the darkness. As for starving, there are roots 
in the woods and water, fresh water, in the springs. 
Why, John, think of stooping down and scooping up a 
handful of sweet water in your hands and drinking it ! 
Cool, clean water, that has just run over a pebbly bed ! 
And there will be a delicious odor in the woods, John. 
I know just how they smell this time of the year, and 
I will throw myself down on the ground and kiss the 
moss, and bury my nose in the wet, tangled vines, and 
take off these wrecks of shoes and dig my toes in the 
moist earth and roll over and look up at the sky 
through the trees and shriek for joy. And I shall find 
some violets, John, they must be blooming by this 
time, and I’ll gather some to take to her — she loves 
them. John, the first time I saw her she was wearing 

a knot of them at her breast, and she looked ” he 

choked. In the horrible monotony and degradation of 
their life the ordinary exchange of confidence between 
man and man had been so submerged in suffering that 
nothing approaching a natural interchange of senti- 
ment had taken place between the friends for months. 
Now both were obsessed; one in pain, the other in 
ecstasy. 

“ Don’t try it, Kob,” urged the sick man, faintly. 
“ This is hell on earth, but remember one thing, you’re 
not dead yet, and if you try to escape from the Jersey 
you’ll never live to carry violets to Elizabeth. Your 

ii/6] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

plan has been tried before, and all were either killed 
or brought back. Wait to be exchanged, for in time 

” he was cut short by a paroxysm of pain in his 

scorched face that made his bony body writhe like a 
snake on the dirty bunk. Robert watched him in si- 
lence. He could do nothing for him. When Sheldon 
had twisted himself up in a strange knot and from the 
heap of rags came only smothered moans, Robert went 
above and with others huddled on the upper deck par- 
took of the only recreation ever permitted, the breath- 
ing of a fresher air than found its way between decks. 
He was one of the few who were able to purchase 
from Dame Grant the envied luxury of tobacco and to 
enjoy a pipe. The smoke somewhat purified the pes- 
tilential air by which they were surrounded, and was 
an inestimable boon, not only to the smokers but to 
scores who in hopeless silence watched the curling 
wreaths as they ascended heavenward. 

Robert found his way near the larboard side and sat 
down by one of the men who was in the party plan- 
ning the escape. It was late in the afternoon, and 
sunshine lay in slanting shadows on the Long Island 
shores and on the heaps that marked the trenches 
where lay the dead that were borne from the ship each 
day. A melancholy silence enveloped the wretched 
company as they huddled together in the brief relaxa- 
tion of their misery. Rut few spoke ; nearly all 
[ r 77] 


Dalrymple 

gazed hopelessly out towards the land, while some 
turned their faces upward to the sky and vacantly 
watched the soft drifting of delicate, curling white 
clouds. 

Eobert and his neighbor carried on a short conver- 
sation regarding their plan, talking in a faint under- 
tone and with the almost motionless lips learned in 
prisons the world over. 

“ Getting along all right ? ” asked Eobert. 

“Yes; five inches done now. One more and we 
can drop into the water.” 

“ I was talking with Leslie about it this morning. 
He thinks we are in danger of being betrayed by 
Stephens or Merritt. Since the committee punished 
them for stealing the clothes of poor Thompson before 
he was dead, they have been sullen. We are all more 
or less brutalized. I think I have but few human in- 
stincts left myself, but ghouls cannot be tolerated 
even here.” 

“ Human instincts ! ” echoed Barrett. “ I’ve been 
nothing but an animal for a year, and I have but one 
sentiment left — self-preservation.” 

“ I have longed for annihilation more than for life,” 
replied Eobert bitterly, “ but self-preservation is not 
possible here, where every process of life is slowly 
stamped out, vitality disintegrated, decency destroyed. 
If we are betrayed,” he paused for a full minute, then 
[ 173 ] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

added, “ Well, all I ask is to be shot in the water. I’d 
like to be clean first, and these accursed bugs will at 
least be drowned.” 

“ Yes,” assented the other. “ It’s tough to be eaten 
by worms before you’re dead.” 

“ After the sawing’s done,” said Eobert, musingly, 
“ we will take the first rainy night. The thing’s per- 
fectly feasible, Hugh ? ” 

“ Certainly ; and, if it isn’t it’s worth the trial.” 

They relapsed into silence. Each busied himself 
with thoughts that were a compound of hope and fore- 
boding. The sun slid further into the west, and the 
lengthening shadows on the hillsides threw still darker 
shadows into the hearts of those who watched them. 
Hot more than a quarter of a mile away lay liberty, 
the free open of the hill, wood and plain, and not far 
distant Washington had vigorously opened the spring 
campaign in Hew Jersey, but for these human shad- 
ows there was nothing but the recurrent horror of an- 
other night. 

How long they sat there Eobert, lost in sore reflec- 
tions, knew not. He was faintly conscious of the ca- 
ressing sweetness of the evening air on his face when 
he heard again the familiar warning that had rung 
on their ears with unvarying regularity every night at 
sunset : “ Down, rebels, down ! ” The tramping of the 
guards and the oaths of some as they kicked the more 
L r 79] 


JJalrymple 

feeble who did not move quickly enough, recalled him 
to the present. He picked up the blanket of a lame 
and coughing man and assisted him down the gang- 
way between decks. The grating of the hatchways 
as they were fastened, and the clanging of arms as 
the guard was changed reached him while he felt his 
way in the semi-darkness to Sheldon. The sick man’s 
breathing was stertorous, and his blistered and swol- 
len face felt hot under Robert’s hand. 

“ Don’t touch me, Rob ! God ! I wish it was over.” 
He was a man of upright character and strictly ortho- 
dox in his religious belief, but in a paroxysm of pain 
he clenched his teeth and muttered a curse which per- 
haps the recording angel never wrote against him. 
Robert did not go into the Gun Room as usual, but 
lay on the deck by the bunk that his silent compan- 
ionship might not leave his suffering friend entirely 
alone. The short dull twilight that filtered through 
the small, narrow gratings of the apertures quickty 
darkened into night. 

If the pen can faintly depict some measure of the 
horror that obtained on the Jersey during the day, no 
adequate idea can be conveyed of the night. It was 
literally to be entombed alive. Darkness was abso- 
lute. Hot so much as one candle was permitted for 
the sick. The imperfect current of air that circulated 
during the day when the hatches were open was shut 

[180] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

off, and the foul and strangling atmosphere claimed its 
victims ere every sunrise. Robert, excited, and with 
his brain more active than it had been for many 
months, was awake most of the night. At times he 
caught a glimpse of the stars through the air-holes, 
and, watching them, he fell into a semi-delirium of 
the imagination. In his mind he went over every 
detail of the contemplated escape, and, the vision be- 
coming more definite as the night advanced, he felt 
himself swimming in the water, his limbs free and 
bathed by the suave waves, the zip of the bullets 
about him adding to the zest of the hour. He 
laughed as he imagined them splashing in the water 
around him. 

Then he saw himself free once more in the woods, 
the soft, spongy turf under his feet and the stars 
sparkling through the tree-tops. Again before Wash- 
ington, then with Elizabeth. The last thought pierced 
him with strange and violent emotions, and a terror 
lest some new and unknown suffering still awaited 
him stabbed him to the core. All around him men 
fought as they did every night, for a place near the 
air-holes, engaged in primitive combat in the darkness 
like vicious animals. The foul air became more poi- 
soned, and the cries of the sick for water and the 
curses of the stronger panting for breath made the 
long hours hideous. Finally, when night was slipping 

C 1 s 1 3 


Dalrymple 

into the gray of the dawn, he fell into a confused 
stupor, from which he was awakened by the sun- 
rise call of the guard : “ Rebels, bring out your 
dead ! ” 

There were three to be taken to the little hillocks 
on the shore. Robert assisted in sewing them up in 
their blankets, and after they were carried up to be 
lowered into the boats, he bent affectionately over 
Sheldon and said : “ John, I’m going ashore and I’ll 
try to bring you back a kettle of fresh water, if they 
will let us go to a spring.” 

“ Do,” said the sick man, eagerly. His eyes were 
still bandaged and his scarred face was more swollen 
than on the previous day. “ I’ll tell you what I 
want,” he continued, “ bring me a handful of sand. I 
can’t see, but it will feel so good.” Robert pressed 
his hand and hurried away. 

Four prisoners made the burying gang, and each 
man was attended by an armed guard. They paid but 
little attention to their duty of burial rites. The four 
captives, overjoyed to escape from the polluted hulk, 
laughed and joked, and pointed good-natured jibes at 
their captors, who happened to be Hessians and in a 
lenient mood. Robert took off his shoes, the others 
had none to remove, and in an ecstasy of physical 
pleasure dug his feet in the ground as he walked, 
gathering up a portion of sand which he tied in a small 
[182] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

rag and stuffed in his pocket. It was an exquisite 
day ; robins were singing and not far off apple-trees 
were in early bloom. Robert stretched his cramped 
legs in long strides and throwing back his head 
breathed deeply and drew within him a deep draught 
of warmth and sunshine. The ground under him 
seemed to send up mysterious currents full of life and 
vitality. He felt himself expand and something more 
potent than wine surged up to his brain. Digging 
the trench was a mere mechanical detail which had no 
relative bearing on his mood, on the glory of the day, 
the exhilaration of the south breeze and the rich, 
warm odors of the mould as they threw it up with 
their spades. He might have been a boy on a picnic 
for all heed he gave to the injunction of the guard 
that the trench was deep enough, and he told a gay 
anecdote as he gave a final smoothing to the newly 
turned sod. 

Despite his prayer, the guards ordered them to 
march back to the wharf at once, but, once there, 
Robert so wrought on the leader that he yielded, not 
unwilling to be off himself, and for half an hour the 
men disported themselves in the warm light, fairly 
basking in a grateful relaxation which had been de- 
nied them for many cruel months when the cold had 
pinched to the very marrow of their bones, though 
truth to tell the bones had been nearer the outside 

[183] 


Dalrymple 

than decently inside. On the ship Eobert went down 
at once, and hurried to Sheldon’s bunk. 

“ John,” he said, tenderly, “ I have brought you a 
gift” 

The sick man had rolled over, and his face was 
turned down. 

“ John, look here.” Eobert reached into his pocket 
and drew out the small package. “ Feel of it, smell 
it — it will do you good.” He put an arm around the 
silent figure and turned the face upwards. The wide- 
open, unseeing eyes looked not into his, but into the 
mystery of eternity. 

As Eobert gazed on the cold face, and knew what 
he saw there, the warmth of the sun, the freshness 
and vitality of the air that had seemed to fill his 
cramped frame and expand him with a new sense of 
life, oozed out of every pore. A chill shook him from 
head to foot, as a sickening realization paralyzed every 
sensation. One thought burned into his brain, this 
too, would be his end. To die ! To die ! Death ! 
Death ! The word took bodily shape, and formed 
itself into a phantom that rose in his tortured imagi- 
nation like some demon born of agony and despair. 

A pale, mysterious smile seemed to waver over the 
dead man’s sunken features ; the sightless caverns of 
the eyes beckoned strangely to shades peopled with 
wraithlike forms. It was Eobert’s hour of weakness, 
[i8 4 ] 


I Have Brought You a Gift 

and his firm will, his strong, sane mind, rocked to and 
fro under the stress of an obsession that temporarily 
whelmed him. How long he might have held the 
stiffening figure in his arms he never knew. Spirit- 
ually he had gone down into hell, and his soul was 
tormented as are the damned. 

Out of that vortex of pain some rhythmic sound 
finally resolved itself into the voice of Father O’Brien 
praying. Robert’s eyes, blurred by an unnatural 
strain, looked wildly at the kneeling form. 

“ My son,” said the priest, laying his hand on Rob- 
ert’s shoulder, “ come away. He is at rest.” 

Robert shook off the friendly touch as if it were a 
viper. “ Curse you,” he said, hoarsely. “ He was my 
friend.” 

The priest’s eyes filled with tears. He crossed him- 
self and sadly regarded the distraught man. Mat- 
thews, who had been half dead for days, got out of 
his bunk and going to Robert attempted to draw him 
away from his gloomy contemplation, but in vain. 
His words seemed to fall on deaf ears. One of the 
battered wrecks of humanity that made the sum total 
of the brotherhood of misery cautiously came near, 
and, casting a careless look at the dead man, gazed 
enviously at the little pile of sand spilled on the 
deck. Then, seeing that Robert knew nothing that 
was transpiring around him, he stooped quickly, 

[185] 


Dalrymple 

scooped the sand up in his hands and scurried 
away. 

As the day wore on they tried without success 
to get Eobert to eat. He pushed the nauseous dish 
from him and in fierce, speechless silence sat through 
the long afternoon, his eyeballs burning and his dry 
tongue occasionally licking his lips. The arid day 
gloomed into a sultry, copper twilight, then thickened 
into night, and the moonlight gleamed through the 
port-holes, falling athwart the prostrate form of Eob- 
ert lying full length across his silent companion. 
Exhausted nature had given way and the living and 
the dead slept together. 

Fat, sleek rats slipped noiselessly through the trail 
of sand and over both unconscious bodies, but the soul 
of the dead man in Paradise was not happier than the 
soul of him who was not dead. For he dreamed of 
love. Ay, of love, that can make even a living hell a 
couch of roses. 


[i 86] 


CHAPTEB XIY 


Out of the Way 

T HE importunities of Butherford during these 
long months had worn on Elizabeth sadly. 
Perfect physical health, bubbling spirits and 
an undaunted courage enabled her to withstand her 
lover’s entreaties and the authoritative pressure of 
Peter. Nevertheless, grief gnawed deeply in her 
heart and the nervous strain of keeping up a cheerful 
appearance before her uncle grew on her so that 
when spring came the second time she clearly showed 
traces of the sorrow that lay at the roots of her life. 
Still, her cheeks were as rounded as usual, and her 
color, though more fitful, was as exquisite as ever. 

Only a wistful look in the eyes and a pathetic droop 
at times of the sensitive mouth betrayed her inner 
suffering. When in moments of unusual plasticity 
the perfectly formed mouth and chin quivered a little, 
an angelic sweetness softened her face that would 
have tempted an anchorite. 

The first sight of her had set Butherford’s blood 
running hotly, and ever since she had held his senses 
abjectly in thrall. Yet, though his desires were primi- 

[187] 


Dalrymple 

tive, the spiritual quality of her womanhood uncon- 
sciously controlled him through his higher nature 
when he was with her. Each time he left her he 
marveled that she was the first woman he had ever 
known whom he had not dared to take in his arms at 
the call of passion. But many times he had left her 
dazed and weak because the temptation of her lips had 
set him on fire only that he might pant in vain. 

Then he would curse himself for a fool, and vow to 
have one embrace, one kiss, at their next meeting if it 
cost him his life. But, seeing her again and again, she 
was as unattainable as ever, and his chains were 
firmly riveted. Elizabeth’s nature fairly rioted in the 
potency of the coquette, the sorceress, but in her 
sweet, high innocence her chaste constancy to her lover 
made of her what few beautiful women are at that 
age, — a fascinating saint. This undistilled sorcery tor- 
mented Kutherford. He had loved too many women 
to be attracted by anything insipid, and the man in 
him rose up and hungered for her to mate with him. 
But before her he was powerless to essay his usual 
arts. The ordinary — and extraordinary — cajoleries 
and flatteries fell unheeded; his most passionate 
pleadings for her love were received with prompt and 
outspoken declarations of her affection for Bobert 
and her determination to marry no man but him ; his 
offers of wealth and title had been scorned. 

[188] 


Out Of The Way 

Once, driven to desperation by her coldness, be had 
lost control of himself and after painting a cruel word 
picture of Robert’s situation had triumphantly declared 
that he could wait and that she would yet be his. 
The sting of her words in reply had smarted for days, 
and when she finished by ordering him from the room, 
forbidding him ever to seek her again, he had 
fallen on his knees and humbly begged her not to 
banish him. Since then he had redoubled his atten- 
tions, unwelcome enough, but Elizabeth had found by 
experience that the easiest way to pacify her uncle 
was to appear complaisant to his wish, and so she tol- 
erated Rutherford, and while his compliments were 
gracefully and warmly uttered, she listened in silence, 
while her thoughts flew straight as the wings of a 
dove to that gloomy hulk off the Jersey shore, and 
always the same face rose before her. But, had 
Rutherford not been an unwelcome suitor, she might 
have cared for him, for he was cultured, magnetic and 
singularly companionable, popular alike with men and 
women, though his gallantries with the latter were 
little short of notorious. 

It was but a few days after Robert had returned 
from the burying gang that Rutherford sat with 
Elizabeth in the parlor of her home, pressing his suit 
with his accustomed ardor, for the chase, instead of 
losing its zest, seemed to gain in appetite. It was an 
[i8 9 ] 


Dalrymple 

exquisite April day. The warm, tender air that came 
through the open window bathed them both caress- 
ingly, and lifted the delicate fragrance of the lilies of 
the valley, Rutherford’s gift, completely filling a large 
jar on the table. Even more spiritual than the violet, 
these fragile lily bells of spring eternally recreate love, 
clad in the garb of purity and moulded in an ancient 
symbolic form as old as the world. Through the 
window could be plainly seen the fashionable prom- 
enade, where panniers and ruffed petticoats, paint and 
powder, laced bodices and high heeled slippers, allured 
the satin waistcoats, the knee-breeches, the wigs and 
queues, the black velvet coats and all the frummery in 
which the sexes bedeck themselves that they may 
make what deceit they can on the purposes of nature 
were much in evidence. Under the soft azure of the 
April sky, and in broad daylight, they walked and 
flirted and whispered soft nothings, punctuated anon 
by side whispers in willing ears, making those little 
arrangements whereby carefully guarded maidens — 
and of the best families, forsooth — promised to give 
the anxious swain an hour or so of moonlight, by a 
judicious use of an early retiring hour and the dis- 
cretion of trusted servants. In truth, the world was 
running along much the same as usual, and there was 
nothing remarkable about anything. 

Rutherford had pleaded with Elizabeth for an hour, 

[i 9 o] 


Out Of The Way 

only to be met with maddening refusals. By some 
peculiar witchery of her personality, he was seized 
with a tumult of the senses that well-nigh shattered 
his self-control. Her face was partly averted, but the 
play of the sunlight on her hair, the curve of her neck, 
the soft, enticing outlines of her body, from the crown 
of her head to the tip of the dainty little slipper that 
peeped out from below her gown, sent the red cor- 
puscles racing through his veins. Long had he desired 
her, and she sat there — utterly remote. 

“ Elizabeth,” he said, “ what is it ? What is the 
matter ? It is not because you cannot love — I re- 
member the first time I saw your face — but it is 
because you have given yourself over to folly, to a 
dream. Can you not realize by this time that there is 
nothing real in it ? Elizabeth, you are wrecking your 
own life. I know I am no saint, no woman ever 
made me say so much before, but for you — for your 
sake, I can be all that a man should be. Elizabeth ! ” 
He caressed her name. 

She shook her head slowly. Languor showed in 
the pose of her figure. “ It is impossible that you 
should even know what love is yet,” he went on, half 
angrily. “ You think that you love this man, but he 
has not taught you what I can. Elizabeth ! Elizabeth ! 
My God, you madden me ! You are an iceberg with 
a heart of fire, but you don’t know it yet, and I could 
[I9 J ] 


Dalrymple 

find it for you. I love you as I have never loved any 
other woman, as I can never love another, and I can 
make your life more than any other man could.” 

He paused, scarcely daring to finish with the words 
that came to him. “ More than Dalrymple, yes — I 
will say it at any cost. Child, you are throwing your- 
self away. Give him up; come to me — be mine. 
Think of all that will be yours if you will be my wife, 
wealth, a title — they are nothing to me. I care for 
them only to lay them at your feet. Elizabeth, I want 
you — I want you.” 

Inflamed with ardor he had approached her, and his 
voice panted in her ear, while his arms nervously 
reached out towards her. Elizabeth had never suffered 
his caress, and her look held him back as she said in a 
low, overcharged tone : “ Colonel Rutherford, I hope 
this is the last time you will ever utter such words to 
me. You tell me I do not know what love is. Ah, 
do you know ? Have you ever been constant to one 
woman as I have been to Robert for a year and a half, 
and that in silence, in absence, torn between hope and 
fear, weeping bitterly in the darkness of the night, 
fearing to see the light of another day lest the news 
should come that the one you love is dead ; have you 
ever done this ? Have you ever been tried as I have 
been tried ? Have you been pursued, courted, flattered, 
sought in every possible way, to have your heart grow 
[192] 


Out Of The Way 

nearer to the only one who can have it ? Do you not 
know that to be separated from your love and know 
of his suffering, of his courage, of his untiring fidelity, 
makes him a thousand times dearer ? Yes, yes, yes ! 
Oh, how much more I love him to-day than I ever did 
before ! Colonel Rutherford, you are an accomplished 
man of the world, and you tell me that I do not know 
what love is, but I tell you that it is you who do not 
know. No, you do not love even me ! You want me, 
yes, but you would not suffer for me. Oh, wait, wait 
till you love in pain and loneliness, and then you will 
know what love is ! ” 

Overcome by the violence of her emotion, the first 
outbreak she had ever permitted herself, she had risen 
and faced him pale but with an exalted look that 
struck a new sensation into Rutherford. He looked 
at her in silence, transfixed by her passionate words. 

“ Oh, will you not leave me,” she said, wearily. “ I 
love no one but Robert, and I will love only him, 
living or dead.” 

Strangely moved, Rutherford was on the point of 
replying when Peter’s voice came distinctly to them 
from the hall. “ She has gone out, you say ? Yery 
well. Go and find Colonel Rutherford at once and 
tell him to come here immediately. A number of 
prisoners attempted to escape from the Jersey last 
night, and all were killed or captured. Robert Dal- 
[ I 93] 


Dalrymple 

rymple was shot and killed. Be careful not to let 
Miss Windham hear of it at present. I will tell her 
myself.” 

He opened the door. The terrible words had 
fallen into the silence as clearly as hailstones, and 
both Elizabeth and Rutherford had stood motionless, 
the eyes of each fastened on the other with im- 
movable intensity. As Peter entered, the sight 
shocked him and he uttered a hoarse exclamation, 
for Elizabeth’s face frightened him. Slowly she 
removed her eyes from Rutherford and, looking not 
at him or at either man, she stared into some unseen 
space, her lips open and her features rigid, her arms 
relaxed in an exhausted droop. 

“ Elizabeth ! ” cried Peter, in sore grief. 

She looked straight ahead, unmoving. “ Robert — 
dead,” she said evenly. Then she fell, mercifully un- 
conscious. Rutherford held her in his arms for the 
first time, and while Peter shouted for water and 
restoratives, he chafed her hands and murmured with 
tense lips : “ At last he is out of the way. How, my 
love, you shall be mine.” 


[ r 94] 


CHAPTER XY 

Now Let Me Go 


O X the stormy night when the last thin bit of 
sheathing that remained beyond the oak 
planking in the stern of the ship was re- 
moved, and the desperate men dropped one by one 
into the water, but few words were said by any one. 
Ho one knew but what they had been betrayed by 
some traitor, or whether the watchfulness of their 
guards had discovered their plans, and every man 
who went and every one who remained knew that 
there were heavy odds in favor of death. 

They had taken every means possible in such a 
crowded community to preserve their secret, and had 
observed what precautions they could by imparting 
the plan only to such as it seemed likely they could 
trust, by hanging a blanket between the door of the 
Gun Room and the outer-deck, so that their work 
might not be noticed, and then they had worked as 
quietly as they could. Matthews was convinced that 
only failure would come of the attempt, and on the 
morning of the fateful day had, with tears in his 
eyes, tried to dissuade Robert from making the trial. 
D95] 


Dalrymple 

When he found that nothing could move him, he had 
relapsed into a melancholy silence, and when urged 
by Kobert to give him some message to take to 
relatives and friends, he had only shaken his head. 

It was evident to those in the secret from early 
in the morning that the time sought for had arrived, 
for with the first grim light of dawn through the air- 
ports there drifted in the cold rain and wind of an 
April Nor’easter, the skies shrouded in sodden gray, 
and the rain a fine cold mist that could chill to the 
bone. All day it slanted down, intensifying the 
misery of the men between decks with an unutter- 
able depression that was augmented by more of 
physical nausea than usual, caused by the polluted air, 
the chill of starved bodies insufficiently clothed and 
shivering in the raw atmosphere, and the discomfort 
of being more than usually crowded, since it was too 
stormy for any to go above for the usual exercise. 

It was a day hideously picturesque. The sick and 
the more feeble remained in their bunks and ham- 
mocks ; many played cards, an amusement which had 
somewhat enlivened existence for a large proportion 
of the prisoners; a few of the more favored who 
possessed such luxuries as a needle and a bit of 
thread, beguiled the time by mending their rags. 

Generosity was rare in that wretched colony. As 
has been written in one of the sad memoirs left: 
[i 9 6] 


Now Let Me Go! 

“ None of us possessed the means of beneficence or 
had any power to afford our companions any relief.” 
But Robert fell heir to a needle-full of thread about 
the middle of the afternoon, and going to Matthews 
he said : “ Look, Jack, ’tis a good omen. I shall be 
able to mend a rent in my raiment. Now I shall not 
blush when I emerge from the woods and ask a good 
dame at a farmhouse for a glass of milk. I shall ap- 
proach whistling, Jack, and assure her that I have 
been training down my superfluous flesh for my 
health.” He laughed oddly. In common with 
others of the escaping party, he was in a state of 
intense nervous tension. Matthews sighed deeply and 
remained silent. 

Towards evening the rain increased, and poured 
steadily as the night advanced. As usual, all be- 
tween decks was in darkness, and those who remained 
awake heard from time to time the “ All’s well ” of 
the sentinel above. While there was no one who 
might be called the head of the little party, Robert 
was universally looked up to. His courage, intimate 
knowledge of the surrounding country and the fact 
that all knew him to be a favorite of Washington, 
had united to inspire the others with confidence in 
him. When the hatches were fastened down for the 
night and in the darkness to which their eyes were 
somewhat accustomed the ten found their way to the 
[ 197 ] 


Dalrymple 

Gun Room, the tension of the hour became almost 
unbearable. 

The storm increased in violence, and beat pitilessly 
on the old hulk as she swayed and tugged at her 
creaking cables. The wind had risen to a gale and 
howled in screeching gusts what whirled by like the 
shrieking of lost souls. It penetrated crevices of the 
ship and sent in little eddies that fanned the cheeks 
of the men with flurries of air that made the nerves 
of all tingle — those who were going with the mad, 
sweet sense of liberty, and those who were to stay 
with a sickening apprehension. Against the barred 
port-holes the rain beat furiously, driven into gusts 
that at moments changed it into the staccato of hail. 
The atmosphere was heavily surcharged with electric- 
ity, and when a long, low rumble of thunder crept 
through the storm it broke the uncanny spell of 
silence that had held the group for almost an hour. 

“ It’s a good night,” said Robert. 

Matthews, who had broken down earlier in the 
evening and cried like a child, had regained his 
composure. He sat by Robert with his usual paternal 
air. 

“ Yes,” he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, 
“it couldn’t be better. The elements are entirely 
with you and the distance is not great.” 

“ Less than half a mile,” said Robert, “and many a 
[198] 


Now Let Me Go! 


time I’ve swum a mile and came up fresh as a por- 
poise. Oh, we’re all right.” 

As he ceased the wind, which had lulled a little, 
broke forth again in shrill gusts and its loud whistle 
as it swirled over the ship, was like wild, demoniacal 
laughter. The nerves of none of the party gathered 
in the Gun Room that night were over-steady, and as 
the minutes sped swiftly in the darkness towards the 
hour agreed upon, the tension was increasing until it 
seemed to more than one as if the very air throbbed 
with the waves of excitement that emanated from 
every poor human body cooped up there. 

It was the last hour for those who were soon to 
take odds, and now, with everything accomplished 
save the final step, and with each man knowing that 
he deliberately took his life in his hands, an indescri- 
bable solemnity settled over all which nothing could 
shake off. From the farthest corner of the room came 
the gentle murmur of Father O’Brien’s voice. Two 
of the escaping party were Catholics, and the good 
priest, who had heard their confessions that afternoon, 
was telling them of his mother, whom he had left in 
the old country. 

“ And when I get out of here, if I ever do, please 
God, I’ll send for her,” he finished. 

“Come with us, father,” urged one of the men. 
“ Think how you’ll envy us to-morrow when we’re as 
t J 99] 


Dalrymple 

free as air, and you and all the rest are still dying by 
inches here in this hell-hole. Come with us ; it isn’t 
too late.” 

“ My son,” the priest’s voice came to them singu- 
larly calm and even through the gloom, “ I feel that it 
is God’s will for me to stay here. In all probability I 
shall never leave the ship alive, and at my age it 
would be folly for me to attempt a feat that is haz- 
ardous even for young and strong men, such as you. 
It is the will of heaven that I should remain and offer 
such ministrations as are in my power to those who 
wish them. When you slip through into the water I 
shall kneel and pray for you until I am assured of 
your safety. Keep cool, my lads, and don’t lose your 
nerve when the bullets begin to whiz about you. On 
a night like this they’re likely to fly wild.” 

Near the new opening in the ship’s stern Robert 
was holding a brief farewell conference with Mat- 
thews. The older man felt as if wild horses were 
tugging at his heart, for from the very first he had 
felt as if Robert were to plunge into a watery grave 
before his eyes. With forced composure he had con- 
versed with him for some time, and now both knew 
by intuition that the hour had almost arrived. 
Through the opening, Robert having carefully re- 
moved the final thin sheathing that had covered it 
that day, both men could see dimly the dark sheen of 
[ 2 °°] 


Now Let Me Go! 


the water, and, as a flash of lightning for a moment 
illumined the night, they could plainly discern the 
wooded expanse of the Long Island shore. 

Eobert leaned further towards the aperture and 
took in a deep breath of the warm, fresh air that 
rushed in on the wings of the night. “ Free ! ” he ex- 
claimed, softly. “ Free at last ! ” 

Matthews felt something within him give way. 

“Eobert,” he said, “Eobert,” and stopped. He 
heard his own heart thumping before he could go on. 
At last he spoke in a queer, jerky way. “ I had a son 
once — I never told you — he was our only child, and 
he died. You have always seemed to me as if you 
were like him — grown up.” There were intervals be- 
tween the last words, and they came from his lips 
heavily. Eobert could not speak. In the silence that 
fell both men felt the mystery of a deeper kinship 
than that of blood, and knew that their souls were 
knit together. But the sacred moment could not 
last. 

Eobert gently unloosed his hand from the almost 
painful grip that held it, and said : “In a few mo- 
ments it will be time to go. I am going to call the 
men by name and be certain that every one is here 
and that everything is done in order at the last mo- 
ment without any confusion.” 

“All right,” said Matthews. “PH stay here by 
[ 201 ] 


Dalrymple 

you and be ready to offer assistance if you should 
need any.” 

“ Time,” said Eobert, in a subdued but distinct un- 
dertone. It was the signal. There was a little stir 
in the room, and in the almost total darkness several 
men moved forward. 

“ I must know that you are all here and ready to 
drop through in the order in which your names are 
called. No man is to crowd or hurry any one else in 
going, and in case anything happens no man is to 
hold another in the water. After you drop through 
the opening and we are fired on it is every man for 
himself, with no advantage to be taken of any one. 
Do you understand ? ” 

“ Yes,” came in different tones. 

“ Y ery well. Gordon ? ” 

“ Here.” 

“ Wilson ? ” 

“ Here.” 

“ Barrett ? ” 

“ Here.” 

“ Eyan ? ” 

“ Here.” 

When he had finished the significant roll-call he 
added : “ It can now lack but a few minutes of the 

time. We are to go after the guard is changed at 
midnight. If any one of you wishes to stay, now is 
[ 2 ° 2 ] 


Now Let Me Go! 

your last chance to say so and let some one else take 
his place.” 

Silence answered him. Through the aperture which 
their hands had made Liberty beckoned. Freedom, 
riding on the storm and careening on the wild wings 
of spring, smiled out of the blackness of the night 
and whispered of home, children and friends, of the 
camp and field and a final escape from the oppressor. 
Not a man spoke or stirred. Those who were not of 
their company felt a blacker anguish seize them. To 
be left behind in this inferno ! God ! Yet they had 
chosen, for it had been agreed that only those who 
assisted in the work of sawing through should go. 

While each was absorbed in his own thoughts a 
voice fell into the dark stillness. All recognized it as 
belonging to an old man by the name of Eossiter. In 
their miserable little community of suffering he had 
been more human than many others, and was known 
as one of the few who had not lost most of the decent 
instincts of humanity. Plain and unobtrusive, he had 
never attracted any particular attention, but he had 
many times ministered in his kindly way to those 
more wretched than he, and they knew his goodness 
of heart. 

“You’re going away, some of you, in a minute or 
two,” he said, “and you don’t know where you’re 
going. You think you’re going to swim right out to 
[203] 


Dalrymple 

freedom, and maybe you are. God knows I hope so, 
for your sake and ours, but it’s only a chance at best, 
and I think we’d better all say a prayer. Kneel, boys, 
and say that old prayer you used to say at your 
mother’s knee.” 

It was a ghostly company that bowed the knee, for, 
that they might be unencumbered in the water, each 
man was entirely denuded of his clothing, which was 
tightly strapped to his back in a compact roll. Shrouded 
in the friendly veil of darkness they were, and as the 
lightning flashed at intervals through the barred air- 
ports and through the one unbarred aperture and 
gleamed fitfully on the kneeling figures, the nudity of 
their white, starved bodies was more suggestive of 
disembodied spirits than of living men. As uncon- 
scious as so many infants, and with a strange inward 
returning to infantile innocence, they knelt and sen- 
tence by sentence after the old man repeated : 

“Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord my soul to take.” 

The voice of the old man was softly lifted up as the 
subdued murmur died away, and he continued : 
“Lord, protect these our brothers who go from us 
now, committing their bodies to the water for the 
sake of liberty, and save them with the great salva- 
[ 2 ° 4 ] 


Now Let Me Go! 


tion of freedom. Yet, oh most merciful God, if in 
thy infinite pleasure it should be thy will that they 
should not escape, grant that they may find the yet 
greater freedom of immortality. And save us all, oh 
Lord, here and in the world to come, and after the 
sufferings of this life are over grant that we may all 
be reunited in the life everlasting, where is liberty 
forevermore.” He rose from his knees and stretching 
out his hands in benediction said : “ The grace of our 

Lord Jesus Christ be with you all, now and evermore. 
Amen.” 

A livid trail of lightning illumined the group for 
an instant, and every man felt his soul swing closer to 
eternity. As the last word was uttered a strange 
stillness settled over the room. The wind had died 
down, but the rain still poured and beat heavily on 
the ship. There was a scarce appreciable interval 
before the call of the guard came to them : 

“ Midnight, and all’s well.” 

In the darkness a few final, hurried farewells were 
said, and the men stepped forward. Robert stood on 
one side of the opening and Matthews on the other, 
and Robert called the names, while Matthews said a 
parting word of good cheer to each man as he slid 
through. They got out in good order, one after an- 
other, with no confusion, slipping away into the water 
like so many great white eels, each one making a soft 
[205] 


D alrymple 

splash, but there was not one word or one exclama- 
tion from any one. Nothing but Robert’s voice 
quietly calling the men by name, the silent approach 
to the hole, the dim outlining of a form for an instant, 
then the gentle gurgle of the water, and then another 
man, and so on down the list. 

When the ninth man had slipped through and it 
was Robert’s turn, Matthews caught him in his arms 
and embraced him convulsively, sobbing deeply in his 
chest, as strong men do when torn by agony. Only 
for an instant. Both men knew there was not a 
moment to lose. 

“ Let me go,” whispered Robert, and Matthews re- 
leased him and leaned trembling against the opening, 
straining his eyes in the darkness to see if he could 
follow the course of the swimmers. In the Gun Room 
there was intense silence. An indescribable suspense 
held every man rigid. For a moment only. Then 
there came to them the sharp crack of musketry, the 
spitting of rifle balls on the water, the dip of oars of 
the pursuing boat, and they knew that all was over. 

“ Oh, my God ! ” cried Matthews. “ They will all 
be killed ! ” Shrieking Robert’s name, he would have 
thrown himself through the opening, but he was held 
back by many hands. Father O’Brien jumped from 
his knees where he was praying and was one of the 
first to reach him. 

[206] 


Now Let Me Go! 


“ Stop, man ! ” he said, holding him forcibly. “ You 
can do nothing. God help them.” He groaned. From 
every direction came sounds of the commotion 
aroused on the ship by the shots. Every soul on 
board was instantly awakened, and every one knew 
that an attempted escape had been frustrated. 
Cries, groans, prayers and curses filled the air, a 
hideous pandemonium that added to the horror of the 
hour. 

In the water the men were being slaughtered. 
With the firing of the signal gun from the upper deck 
of the Jersey , a perfect hail of shot was directed at 
the glistening track left in the water by the men as 
they swam off, and the pursuing boat was not only 
filled with skilled marksmen who fired rapidly and 
constantly, but the marines were attacking with hooks 
and heavy bars every struggling form that showed 
itself. The would-be escaping men had expected to 
be fired upon, but to be attacked in this manner was 
unexpected, and, thrown into terror and confusion, 
they made the frantic attempts of wounded and 
drowning men to save their lives. The lightning 
played on an awful scene, men crying out in despair 
in the blood-stained water, clutching each other with 
the madness of despair, and throwing appealing arms 
wildly towards heaven as they sank. Those who 
prayed for mercy at the hands of their pursuers were 
[207] 


Dalrymple 

denied it, and were answered by blows that sent them 
down to rise no more. 

Eobert felt his head swim when he heard the first 
shot, then he instantly collected himself and with des- 
perate but cool and determined courage, struck di- 
rectly for the shore. Fully alive to the deadly nature 
of the attack and pursuit, he nevertheless kept himself 
well in hand, and with every nerve and muscle under 
perfect control he propelled himself through the 
water with strong, bold strokes that gave him a good 
headway. He felt his spirits rise and a thrill shot 
through him as he realized that every movement of 
his body was carrying him safely beyond the pursuit 
that raged around him, when, to his horror, he felt 
himself clutched in a fierce embrace by one of the 
drowning men. Eealizing his peril he shouted to him 
to let go, and vainly tried to disentangle himself, but 
his crazed companion only held the closer. Down 
into gurgling depths they went together, and Eobert, 
mad now with the instinct of self-preservation, knew 
that one of them must die. When they came to the 
surface he saw red flashes before his eyes and felt his 
senses reeling. With a last effort he attempted to 
free himself, and felt the cramped limbs of the dying 
man fall away from him, but as he did so he knew he 
was struck in the left arm by a ball, and the shattered 
limb fell helpless, and again he was sinking. His 
[208] 


Now Let Me Go! 


brain was in chaos ; heavy weights seemed to draw 
him down into cavernous depths, but, as the water 
was closing over him for the second time, he dimly 
saw an object which he thought might save him. He 
threw out his right arm and grasped at it, and as he 
did so a bullet whizzed by him in the darkness, he 
felt a heavy blow on his forehead, and was uncon- 
scious when his captors drew him into the pursuing 
boat. 

Only one other man besides himself was brought 
back to the Jersey . As the firing ceased and the dip 
of the oars announced the return of the boat, the 
tumult that had broken loose between decks died into 
an ominous silence once more. The prisoners heard 
the voices of the ship’s officers above, heard the 
tramping of feet, and then the hatches were raised 
and Eobert and another one, Barrett, were carried be- 
low by the guards and silently laid side by side on a 
couple of bunks, two naked, bleeding, ghastly objects. 
The guards bore with them what had never before 
been seen on the Jersey between decks, two candles. 
These were set on the floor by the captured men, that 
their faint rays might the more clearly reveal their 
mutilated condition to their comrades, and make the 
object lesson more complete. The plan to escape had 
been known to the officers almost from the first, 
though it was never discovered whether it was found 
[209] 


T>alry?nple 

out through the vigilance of the guards or through 
the betrayal of some one of their own number. 

In order to thoroughly impress the men with the 
hopelessness of any such attempts, the ship’s officers 
had deliberately permitted them to complete their 
work, and then, knowing that they would choose a 
stormy night, they had stationed a boat at the ship’s 
stern, and as soon as the last man was in the water 
they had opened up the pursuit, with the full intention 
of killing every one. They had succeeded only too 
well. The guards who carried below the senseless 
forms of the two men spoke not a word, not even the 
customary oaths escaped them. They turned away, 
ascended to the upper deck and closed the hatches 
once more. 

Throughout the rest of the night such poor minis- 
trations as the agonized Matthews, Father O’Brien, 
Rossiter and others could render to Robert finally 
resulted in a faint fluttering of breath across his lips 
as morning dawned. Barrett was beyond human help. 
The burying gang carried him ashore before noon of 
the next day, and left his bones to whiten in the heap 
on the beach. The others lay at the bottom of the 
river. Their souls had been ushered to their last 
account shriven only by the sacrament of Rossiter’s 
plea : and in their watery grave, stained with their own 
life-blood, they had found “ freedom in immortality.” 
[210] 


CHAPTER XVI 


For the King’s Cause 

I MMEDIATELY after the attempted escape the 
ship’s officers, in retaliation, not only denied the 
prisoners what little liberties they had previously 
had on board, but they also isolated the Jersey from 
the limited communication that had been held with 
the outside world by means of the bum boats, whence on 
rare occasions a letter had been smuggled. For this 
reason it was almost impossible for the relatives of the 
prisoners who had attempted to escape to learn their 
fate. Indeed, in the confused and contradictory re- 
ports that had spread the names of at least an hun- 
dred men were used, and it was said that all had been 
killed. 

Peter was almost distracted by Elizabeth’s grief. 
He filled the house with her friends, and he and Mrs. 
Hardy ministered to her with the utmost solicitude, 
and in the days of her prostration that followed he 
left no stone unturned in efforts to discover the truth. 
Rutherford did the same. He left the house with his 
arms aching with the delight of holding her senseless 
form in them, and torn by such conflicting emotions 
[ 211 ] 


T)alrymple 

as are known only to a jealous and all but hopeless 
love. 

It was not until the evening of the third day that 
any definite news was obtained, and then, unexpect- 
edly, Peter and Eutherford met in a coffee-house on 
John Street, much frequented by the British officers 
and Tory residents. It was a cool evening, and a 
crackling fire of hickory logs in the great open fire- 
place blazed merrily and cast the light of its dancing 
flames far out into the room to mingle with the 
illumination of the tallow-dips, where both played in 
fantastic shapes on the rows of burnished pewter 
dishes that stood in serried array on the shelves. It 
was a homely but cheerful interior, and its low ceiling, 
small, leaded panes of glass and white sanded floor 
made a comfortable setting for the groups that sat at 
the small tables and indulged in the gossip of the hour. 

Peter was one of a party of four, but though his 
companions were all old acquaintances and the entire 
company mildly convivial, it was evident that he was 
not in his usual spirits. Truth to tell, he had not 
much encouragement to be gay. Elizabeth was still 
prostrated by the nervous shock she had sustained ; 
the widow Earle had openly flouted him in the market 
that day, and he had heard through an officious friend 
that she was looking with favor on the suit of a rival, 
one Dudley Leigh, a well-to-do middle-aged bachelor, 
[ 212 ] 


For Fhe King's Cause 

who had made the undisguised announcement that he 
intended to cut Peter out and marry her himself. 
And, as if all these matters were not enough, Paul 
Elliott, arriving that afternoon with a message from 
his father, had in a conversation with Elizabeth in 
Peter’s presence avowed candid doubts as to the 
justice of the Tory cause. Restraining himself with 
difficulty, he had drawn Paul into a private talk in 
the dining-room before he left, and, to his horror 
and amazement, the young man had repeated his dec- 
laration. 

Peter, of course, had lost his temper. 

“ Are you going to be another renegade ? ” he 
demanded, angrily. “ You, the son of the most loyal 
Tory in Westchester County ? Egad, sir, if you were 
my son I’d disinherit you ! ” 

“ So w r ill father,” said the young man, cheerfully. 
“I won’t mind that. You see, I’ve been doing my 
own thinking about this war, and, to my mind, it’s too 
much like fighting against one’s own blood. You 
must admit, sir, that after all most of us have come of 
a common stock, and like a good many others, I’m 
beginning to think that we’d get along very well by 
ourselves.” 

Peter had been speechless for a full minute. Had 
it come to this! Was there nothing but mutiny, 
sedition and treason everywhere ! Then he spoke : 

[213] 


Dalrymple 

“Young man, you are old enough to have reached 
years of discretion, but you are going to the devil. 
Common stock, forsooth ! As if these beggarly rebels 
were anything better than the spawn of the Evil One 
himself, with their God-forsaken babble of liberty 
and independence. Shame on you, to harbor the 
thought of sympathizing with them. You had best 
mend your opinions before it is too late, for when His 
Majesty has crushed this insurrection and holds these 
rebels in the hollow of his hand, it will go hard with 
those who forsook his standard when he needed 
loyalty.” 

“ By your leave, sir, he hasn’t crushed it yet,” Paul 
had replied, “ and there are others besides myself who 
have serious doubts if he ever will. Mr. Washing- 
ton’s men in camp in Yalley Forge have been half 
starved all winter, and their bare feet have left blood 
tracks in the snow, but their spirit is unbroken and 
they say they’ll give us a tussel this spring. Men 
like that may not lie so easy in King George’s hands.” 

Peter’s color had deepened to its final Burgundy 
hue, an ominous sign. 

“ You will find out your mistake too late,” he said. 
“ Freezing and starving are quite good enough for all 
enemies to the King — and their sympathizers.” 

Paul had departed unabashed, and Peter, as he con- 
sulted his decanter, had damned all Tory renegades 
[214] 


For The King s Cause 

mightily. As he sat smoking now a medley of talk 
went merrily on around him. On the table in front 
of one of the party lay a play bill, announcing an en- 
tire change of program for the next evening at the 
famous John Street Theatre, which was opened in 
1753 and used throughout the Revolution. Richard 
III was announced, the cast made up entirely, as was 
common in those days, from officers of regiments 
stationed in New York City. Major Jack Hargrave, 
of the Fourth Artillery, as Richard, “ in the most 
artistic impersonation ever given. Five shillings in 
the pit. To begin precisely half an hour after six 
o’clock, and no admittance behind the scenes. The 
management will positively enforce this new rule, as 
the officers cast for the female parts of late have been 
greatly annoyed by the unwelcome attentions of 
gentlemen admirers.” 

“ No admittance behind the scenes,” repeated Wat- 
son, who had read it aloud. “ Ah, times have changed. 
I mind when seats were ranged on each side of the 
stage in Garrick’s day, and all of us gay young blades 
tvho could crowd up there would press so closely 
about the fair ladies of the cast that sometimes they 
could scarce speak their lines. I remember one 
night in London when Peg Woffington was playing 
Juliet to Garrick’s Romeo my chum, Spencer Worth- 
ington, just out of Oxford, became so enamored of 

[215] 


Dalrymple 

the lovely Peggy that he began to interpolate his own 
love-making, and he finally got so bold that, after 
being requested to desist and paying no attention, 
Garrick rushed at him, chased him off the stage and 
into the pit and out of the house, where he would 
have used him roughly, had not friends interfered. 
Alack ! There’s been nothing on the stage like Peg 
Woffington since her day. Gentlemen, here’s to her 
memory.” His toast was drunk with appreciation, 
and as they put down their glasses the speaker con- 
tinued : “You remember those good old days yourself, 
eh, Peter ? ” 

“ To my sorrow,” said Peter. “ In these miserable 
times ’tis but a poor consolation to reflect that were it 
not for a pack of outlaws this country might come to 
some such a standing as England. Yes, I mind Peg 
Woffington and Garrick and all the rest of that 
noble company of those days in London and Dublin, 
and now, God help us, we have play bills thrust under 
our noses telling us that Captain So-and-So will 
play Juliet to Colonel Thus-and-So’s Romeo, and 
no admission behind the scenes. ’Twere a mercy if 
there were no admission to the house.” 

“ ’Tis true the times are evil,” admitted his friend, 
“ but this play-acting amuses both the company and the 
audience, even if for different reasons, and for that 
matter, Peter, why not be as merry as we can while it 
[216] 


For Fhe King s Cause 

lasts. His Majesty holds the stage in New York and 
Philadelphia, and Mr. Washington and his company 
are barn-storming it on the road, and trying to get an 
engagement at the regular houses, is it not so ? ” 

“ Ah, neat, very,” murmured his nearest companion, 
out of a cloud of smoke, while Peter nodded with the 
nearest approach to cheerfulness he had shown that 
evening. 

“ I hear that the ghost hasn’t walked for the rebel 
players all winter,” pursued Watson, pleased with his 
own wit. “ ’Tis like enough each man-jack of them 
is writing a tragedy. Here comes one of our finest 
stars now, but though it’s said he prefers the role of 
Romeo on the stage and off of it, he seems to my 
eye more like the melancholy Dane to-night than the 
ardent lover in doublet and hose. Good-evening, 
Colonel Rutherford, I hope I see you well, sir.” 

Rutherford looked at him with undisguised con- 
tempt. His brow was dark with some hidden passion 
and his eye was filled with a light that told of 
smouldering fires below, but he was a handsome and 
soldierly man, and as he stood in the full blaze of the 
sparkling logs, his cloak thrown back and his figure 
erect, he looked an ideal cavalier, and truth to tell, he 
had indeed essayed both Romeo and Hamlet without 
discredit. His glance traveled quickly now from the 
speaker to Peter and back again, and he answered 
[217] 


Dalry??iple 

with cold civility: “I am well, sir, and apparently 
others are not less so.” As he finished his eye sought 
Peter’s with a strange, fleeting look that conveyed 
some unknown and unwelcome meaning. 

“Surely,” replied Watson, impervious to any ap- 
plication that might be made to himself. “Will you 
not join us ? ” 

“No, thank you. I have been looking for Mr. 
Simpson, as I have some news for him, and, begging 
your pardon, I must ask a word in private with him.” 

Peter started up, filled with vague apprehensions. 

“ Come over here,” said Rutherford. “ I see a small 
vacant table for two where we can speak quietly to- 
gether.” He led the way to a corner of the room and 
they sat down. “ Pve just seen Yon Stein wehr,” said 
Rutherford, abruptly. “ He saw the Captain of the 
Jersey this afternoon, and heard all about that at- 
tempted escape the other night. Dalrymple is the 
only one living of the party. The guards who took 
the boat out were ordered to let no one get away, and 
they thought the fellow was dead when they carried 
him on board the ship, but by morning he had 
revived. He has as many lives as a cat.” He made 
a gesture of disgust. 

Peter did not reply at once. He looked at Ruther- 
ford without speaking, his face pallid and his eyes 
fixed. He was breathing deeply, his mind con- 
[218] 


For The King s Cause 

centrated on one point alone. This man, whom he 
hated so deeply, lived. He had thought him dead, 
but he breathed, inhabited the same globe — he was 
alive ! Alive, and he had thought him dead ! The 
intensity of his thought, the inner desire of his heart, 
stamped itself on the silence that fell between them, 
leaped from one mind to the other, and burned deeply 
in each brain. The two men looked fixedly into each 
other’s eyes, and knew that they desired the death of 
this man with all the ferocity of which human 
passions are capable. Each felt murder, and had 
Robert Dalrymple fallen into the power of either at 
that moment his life would not have been worth more 
than a pinch of snuff. The veneering which civiliza- 
tion has spread over primitive instincts presently re- 
asserted itself. 

“ Alive, you say ? ” said Peter. 

“Alive, and, I judge, likely to recover from some 
wounds he got someway, hit himself in the water 
against a fish’s fin, or something of that sort.” He 
laughed unsteadily, and added: “I was sure you’d be 
glad to hear the good news, as you would naturally 
want to be the first to carry it to Miss Windham and 
relieve her cruel uncertainty. I trust that she is 
somewhat recovered from the shock of the first 
information. It’s a pity we didn’t know the truth 
then.” 


[219] 


Dalrymple 

“ It’s a pity it wasn’t the truth,” said Peter, in a 
fierce undertone. He brought his hand down heavily 
on the table, while a savage spark leaped out of 
Rutherford’s eyes. “ Yes, a pity for him and for all 
of them. To hell with the whole devil’s brood of 
them ! ” 

It was no new thing for Peter Simpson to use 
strong language, but seldom did his fury reach such a 
height as at that moment. Rutherford, even in his 
own secretly brutal mood, felt a pang of admiration 
at the transformation caused by this wave of over- 
powering rage. 

“ Oh, they’ll get there all right,” he said, cyn- 
ically, “ but some of them are a long time en route.” 

“ Tell me,” said Peter, “ how did it happen ? ” 

Rutherford gave him an account of the attempted 
escape and its result, and added : “ So for the present, 
and for a long time, there will be no more escaping 
parties. And as for being dead, why, let a man stay 
long enough on the Jersey and no dead man would 
swap chances with him. Time, time, Peter.” 

“ Ay, time,” replied Peter, shaking his head, “ but 
damme if I’d take long odds on a man who can pull 
out of a close call like that. And to think that he 
should be the only one out of ten, too.” 

Rutherford assented gloomily. 

“ And look at me,” continued Peter. “ Look at the 

[ 22 °] 


For The King s Cause 

fix Pin in, feeling the way I do and compelled to go 
home and tell Elizabeth and have her weep for joy in 
my arms ! And then I’ll have everything to go 
through with again from the first, just as if it had 
never been brought up before, and I’ll use every argu- 
ment I ever used, and urge and command and plead 
and threaten, and at the end of it all she will pray 
God to spare him, and beg me not to hate him, and 
implore me to let her have her way in this one thing, 
and beseech me to let her marry the man she loves, 
the only man she ever can love ! Zounds, Rutherford, 
this rebel insurrection will drive me daft yet.” 

Rutherford’s expression contracted. A vein showed 
prominently in his forehead between the eyes, but he 
spoke with forced composure. “The game is not 
played out yet, Peter. He is still on the Jersey , and 
’twill be many a day before any man leaves her 
now.” 

“ There might be exchanges,” suggested Peter. 

“Yes, there might be, but it isn’t likely — for some.” 
He made a significant pause, and added : “ You un- 

derstand, there might be ways of — well, of influencing 
that matter. I think possibly I might get at it some 
way.” 

“ I hope you can. We must make the best of things 
as they are now. What I hate most of all is going 
home and breaking the news to Elizabeth.” 

[221] 


Dalrytnple 

“ It’s a duty I don’t envy you. Ah, Staats, how 
are you ? ” 

The newcomer, Col. Staats Yon Steinwehr, was 
one of the young Hessian noblemen, who, as officers 
in the British army, found the rebellion in King 
George’s colonies an exciting adventure. He replied 
cordially to Rutherford’s salute, and gave a more 
formal greeting to Peter, with whom he had a passing 
acquaintance, and accepted his invitation to sit down. 

The conversation became more general for a while, 
and touched upon affairs in the city, and then Yon 
Steinwehr turned to Peter and said : “ I was disap- 

pointed in not seeing Miss Windham at the Walton 
ball last evening. Miss Lewis and myself led the 
cotillion, and I was sorry to hear that your niece is 
somewhat indisposed.” 

“ Yes ; a cold — this sudden change in the weather.” 

“Beastly,” assented Yon Steinwehr. “Been vile 
ever since that storm of the other evening. It lashed 
the shipping about in the bay considerably.” He 
looked hard at Peter. In the silence that followed 
the thoughts of all three again fastened on the subject 
of the attempted escape, which had been of sufficient 
moment to attract some attention, and had been the 
cause of a brief paragraph in Rivington’s Royal 
Gazette , the organ of the Tories, which appeared that 
day. 


[222] 


For The King's Cause 

“ Quite a little flurry over in the East Eiver, too,” 
pursued Yon Stein wehr, carelessly. “ Foolish lot of 
men on the Jersey got dissatisfied with their quarters 
and tried to get away. They got away all right, but 
not in the way they intended. I understand there’s 
only one out of ten to tell the tale, if he’s alive 
yet.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Peter, catching at a 
straw. 

“ Why, this man, Dalrymple, I think his name is, 
got pretty badly hurt somehow, nobody knows how, 
and they don’t think he’ll live.” 

“A rash proceeding,” said Peter, indifferently. 
“ It’s been tried before without success. The tale of 
the survivor ought to be of considerable interest to 
his companions. I’ll make my adieus to you younger 
men and go home. This east wind twinges my gout.” 

The two officers stood up to take their leave and 
thanked Peter for his pressing invitation to call within 
a few days, when he was quite certain Miss Wind- 
ham’s indisposition would have passed. 

As his sturdy figure went down the brilliantly- 
lighted room towards the door, Yon Steinwehr said : 
“ I suspect our friend of more cordiality towards you 
than myself, but I give you fair warning I intend to 
be a rival for the prize.” 

Rutherford made an abrupt dissenting gesture. 

[223] 


Dalrymple 

“You might as well be a rival to a man of straw. 
The prize you mean is neither for you nor me.” 

Peter had almost reached the door when he met 
a man who had just entered, and the unexpected 
sight of him changed the current of his thoughts to a 
practical consideration at once. 

“ Ah, Wilson,” he said, heartily, “ I’m glad to see 
you. What about that note ? ” 

Wilson shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, Peter, but you’ve lost your thousand 
dollar loan. If you had had the note endorsed by 
De Lancey, as I suggested, you would have been all 
right. But that fellow Collins has turned traitor, 
probably to save his property within the American lines 
not far from Yalley Forge, and he has not only taken 
the oath of allegiance to the rebels himself, but his 
eldest son was commissioned a lieutenant in the so- 
called army yesterday. I’ve tried my best to collect 
that note, but it’s no use.” 

“Well, I’m damned,” said Peter. 

“ Oh, cheer up. It’s all for the King’s cause, and 
you’re only out of it temporarily. As soon as the 
war is over you know we’ll have everything, and 
then ” 

He was left without an auditor. Peter swung 
quickly on his heel and out into the street. And 
there, under the light of the stars, with his favorite 
[ 224 ] 


For The King's Cause 

little black servant swinging a lantern before him on 
the dark, uneven pavement, Peter Simpson strode 
along towards his house, the maddest and most thor- 
oughly disgruntled Tory in all New York. 

He was admitted by Joe, and Mrs. Hardy’s anxious 
face showed in the hall. “ I’m glad you’ve come,” she 
said. “ Elizabeth has been asking for you.” 

And Peter, outwardly tame over his inward fury, 
went up the stairway and tapped gently at the half 
open door. 


[225] 


CHAPTER XVII 


An Ungrateful Girl 

HE Royalists were not as sanguine in the 



spring of ’78 as they had been previously. 


“ Burgoyne’s surrender to Gates in the autumn 
of the preceding year had been a severe shock, both in 
England and America. Burgoyne’s flattering remark 
to General Schuyler: “Your fund of men is inex- 
haustible ; like the Hydra’s head, when cut off seven 
more spring up in its stead,” found an uneasy echo 
in the minds of many. The surrender of the English 
general at Saratoga justly marks one of the fifteen 
decisive battles of the world. Up to that time 
Americans had been called “ rebels,” not only by 
England, but by all the great powers of the earth, 
but after it they rose to a more dignified level, and 
were respectfully spoken of in most foreign councils 
as patriots attempting to rescue their country from 
unjust oppression. 

Most significant of all, was the French Alliance. 
Franklin in Paris had drawn up the forty-four articles 
of the two treaties, while Andre and other British 
officers were installed in his house in Philadelphia, 


[226] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

making sportive experiments with his electrical appa- 
ratus and playing on his beloved harps and harp- 
sichords. The opposition in Parliament every day 
grew more powerful ; Lord Chatham had denounced 
the use of the American Indians as allies in warfare 
in one of the most brilliant and bitter of all his 
orations. Lord North had resigned, and with the 
death of Chatham, in April, the two great friends of 
the American cause were removed from action. 

In New York and Philadelphia the Tory dis- 
satisfaction was rampant. There were no soft allu- 
sions to the rebels as patriots in those cities, where 
the citizens of the King’s revolting provinces were in 
the tight grip of military rule. Mrs. Fitzmorris spent 
the month of April at Peter’s, and found much reason 
for complaint with the way things were drifting. In 
the middle of the month, when the news came that the 
Congress had resolved that no conference could be 
held with the commissioners from Great Britain until 
that power had withdrawn its fleets and armies, and 
acknowledged the independence of the United States, 
her indignation knew no bounds. 

“ As utterly brazen as if their upstart republic had 
all Europe at its back. And the effect of this perni- 
cious sentiment is beginning to permeate all classes and 
conditions. The very servants feel it, and enlist with- 
out saying so much as by your leave. One of my 
[ 22 /] 


Dalrymple 

youngest negro wenches was out until after midnight 
not long since, and when I reproved her the next day 
she said that it was a free country and that she had a 
right to do as she pleased. I discharged her, and she 
flaunted out of the room, boasting that her lover was 
secretly committed to the rebels, and had conveyed 
information to Mr. Washington through the hostler of 
one of his secretaries. At this rate we are likely not 
to have any servants left.” 

Peter did not reply at once. His face was overcast 
and he was deep in meditation. Mrs. Fitzmorris, 
being thoroughly launched on a favorite topic, con- 
tinued to hold forth in a highly injured strain on 
further grievances connected with the servant question 
and the evils of living on the same soil with rebels, 
upstarts, rapscallions and general riff-raff and bob-tail 
elements. Peter, being well seasoned to this sort of 
thing, was totally unheeding, nor did he know when 
she passed from a denunciation of the hoi-polloi to an 
elaboration of her theory regarding a well-organized 
state of society. Familiarity with both themes had 
long since deadened the auditory nerve to further 
impressions, and the busy clack of her tongue merely 
hammered away dimly at the outer portals of his con- 
sciousness. Having reached a certain point in his 
cogitations, he took advantage of the first lull. 

“ Eliza,” he said, removing his pipe, and looking 
[228] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

critically at Mrs. Fitzm orris, “ this insurrection is in- 
deed serious. It is going to the root of everything, 
and the worst of it is that it is not merely confined to 
an element we would naturally expect to take up with 
such ideas, but it has reached into the most conserva- 
tive circles and has affected even our women.” He 
paused a moment. “ The truth is that even young 
girls are disposed to carry this new doctrine into their 
conduct. I can trace Elizabeth’s first resistance to me 
to this very thing. I have not given up hope of bring- 
ing her back to her former ways by force of argument 
and gentle coercion, but I confess I am nonplussed. 
In spite of the fact that young Dalrymple has been a 
prisoner for nearly two years, she will not give him 
up, will not accept Rutherford. I should like for her 
to marry him in June. Do you think we can bring it 
about ? ” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris gave him a sarcastic smile. “ Hot 
if she is left to you. The girl should have been 
compelled to obey long ago. Make her marry him, 
Peter.” 

“ ’Tis easier said than done. And, mark you, 
Eliza, I’ll do all that a man can decently do to com- 
pel a woman, but I won’t force her past a certain 
point. When Betsey knew she was dying and talked 
with me about the future of her child, she begged me 
to let her marry as she pleased. I promised her, and 
[229] 


Dalrymple 

I’ll keep ray word. But I’m at my wits’ ends lately, 
and before you go I want you to have a good talk 
with her and see what you can do. Kutherford has 
devoted himself to her all winter, but he has made no 
headway.” 

Elizabeth parried a number of attempts on the part 
of her great-aunt during the next few days, but the 
end was inevitable. Mrs. Fitzmorris was not to be 
balked, and she was spurred with a determination to 
win the girl if possible in order to take an honor over 
Peter, for it was her favorite assertion to him that if 
she had had the training of Elizabeth she would 
marry as she was told. She had asked Elizabeth into 
her room while she was having her hair dressed, and 
then, her toilet complete, she had dismissed the maid 
and after a little preliminary skirmishing had intro- 
duced the topic near to the atrophied organ she be- 
lieved to be her heart. 

In the beginning Elizabeth was very quiet and 
would say but little, whereupon her aunt, pressing 
her further, began to inquire the reasons for what 
she termed strange and unladylike conduct. “ You 
know,” she continued, “ that for many years we, your 
Cousin Amanda, your Uncle Peter and myself, have 
looked forward to making an excellent marriage, one 
fit for you in every way, and now a brilliant match is 
offered and we would like to see you settled this 
[230] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

spring. Why not marry Colonel Rutherford in 
June ? ” 

“I cannot marry Colonel Rutherford in June, or 
any other time.” 

“ Cannot ? What do you mean by cannot ? ” 

“ Because I do not care enough for him. I do not 
care for him at all.” 

“ Nonsense, Elizabeth ! That is no obstacle. Marry 
him first and learn to care for him afterwards. He’s 
the sort of man to win a woman.” 

“ He cannot win me, aunt.” 

“ And why not, pray ? ” 

“ Because I don’t love him. I love another 
man.” 

“ Love ! ” cried Mrs. Fitzmorris. “ Love ! A girl’s 
foolishness ! ” 

“ And,” said Elizabeth, calmly, “ I know that I shall 
never love anybody else.” 

“ You talk too much of love,” said Mrs. Fitzmorris, 
angrily. “ It is not delicate for a girl of your age to 
say so much of such a sentiment. It is improper. 
When I was young I never dreamed of making such 
remarks, and I cannot imagine where you got the 
ideas which have made you so forward. Amanda and 
myself have trained you, and your uncle has instructed 
you, yet instead of doing credit to us you say these 
positively shocking things. For my part, unless you 

[231] 


Dalrymple 

pay more attention to our wishes, I shall have noth- 
ing more to do with you.” 

Elizabeth dimpled into a provoking smile. Too 
often had her aunt threatened to have no more to do 
with her for the words to carry any weight. She 
looked mischievously at the irate dame. 

“ Auntie, don’t you think there must be an awfully 
weak point somewhere, if the training of three grown 
people can’t bring up one poor little girl right ? I 
know I must be very wicked, but you see I’ve just 
made up my mind to be happy in my own way, and 
if I’m not a credit to you and Cousin Amanda and 
Uncle Peter I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” 

“You are like a baby,” said her aunt, irritated be- 
yond endurance. “ I wonder that Peter permits you 
so much freedom. If you were my ward you should 
know the difference.” 

“ I’m sure of it, auntie, but you know you’d have 
just that much more trouble for nothing. You see 
Uncle Peter really loves me.” 

The tips of Mrs. Fitzmorris’ fingers tingled. She 
was a woman quite capable of boxing ears if she 
dared. Her long, straight figure, which still looked 
aristocratic in trailing lengths of soft satin, was drawn 
to a feline tension that betrayed itself in every line 
as she concentrated her look. 

“ You are insolent to speak so, and you may find 

[232] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

yourself mistaken some day. You think you are to 
be Peter’s heiress, but if you try him too far and pre- 
sume to set yourself up to marry against his will you 
will discover that he is not the man to waste his 
money on an ungrateful girl.” 

At last she had gone too far herself. Elizabeth’s 
warm, impetuous and guileless nature rose hotly. 
Her eyes, grown large and lambent, were fixed on 
the unyielding face before her, and in her cheeks 
there flamed the banners of outraged modesty. 

“ How can you say that ? ” she cried. “ You know 
it is not so. I have never told a lie, and never pre- 
tended to like any one whom I did not in my life, 
and Uncle Peter knows it. I do not care for him less 
because I wish to marry a man whom he does not 
like, and he knows I do not care for his money. He 
may leave it to any one else, but no matter what I do 
he will never believe me ungrateful.” 

The candid words penetrated Mrs. Eitzmorris’ 
mood. She did not care to be indiscreet, even with 
Elizabeth. Also she knew Peter, and she realized 
that in any conceivable crisis in which he would have 
to choose between them, his selection would not fall 
on her. 

u You may say you do not care for money, but you 
do not know that. Because you have always had 
everything that money could buy to make you happy, 
[ 233 ] 


Dalrymple 

beautiful gowns and all that a girl could desire, you 
cannot realize that to do without these things would 
be misery. You have most of your life to live yet, 
and it alarms me to see you do not comprehend that a 
woman cannot keep her place in the world without 
clothes, a house, servants, a carriage, jewels, all the 
things she needs for her social standing and her own 
comfort. Can you imagine yourself without a maid ? 
What would become of you if you actually had to do 
things for yourself ? Your life would be ruined. I 
have seen such things happen. When my friend Mrs. 
Wilkinson lost her fortune she talked at first just as 
you do now, but poverty crushed her spirit, and she 
died within a year of a broken heart.” 

“ A broken heart ! ” echoed the girl, scornfully. “ I 
wouldn’t respect myself if I thought I had that kind 
of a heart. It’s of no use for you to tell me these 
things, Aunt Eliza. We will never think the same 
about such matters. You believe that money can buy 
everything to make one happy, and I don’t. And you 
believe too that because I am young and inexperienced 
that it is not possible for me to know what kind of a 
woman I really am, but I know that too, for I am not 
a child now. I laugh and sing and dance and go to 
parties, but I think a great deal too, and that makes a 
difference. You see I really know more than I used 
to. Two men have been in love with me for almost 

[234] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

two years, and I have sense enough to know that I 
am not in love with both of them.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris uttered a muffled shriek. “You 
are lost to all sense of decency,” she cried. 

“ I don’t see how I could be. Mrs. Dairy mple said 
she was an old friend of yours, and Uncle Peter him- 
self brought Colonel Kutherford here and introduced 
him. Mrs. Dalrymple told Nellie Musgrove’s mother 
that when you were in school with her you tried to 
run off with a young fellow, and the rope broke when 
you started, and you had to come back. I wouldn’t 
have that happen to me for anything. It seems to me 
that I’ve been quite proper.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris felt benumbed. This, after all the 
years — oh, what a cat Sarah Folliott was ! She 
steadied herself through the gray haze that spread 
around her. 

“You are no judge of anything. Mrs. Dalrymple 
comes of a good family, but she was one of the wildest 
girls in school. I have never told you what I know 
about her. I do not know what worse I could hear 
than that you are infatuated with her son. It is sim- 
ply rank and impossible folly.” 

“ Aunt Eliza,” said Elizabeth, gravely, “ were you 
ever really in love ? I know, of course, that you mar- 
ried Uncle Theodore, but he was a very wealthy man, 
and if you thought the same when you were a girl 
[ 235 ] 


Dalrymple 

that you do now you must have married him for his 
money and loved somebody else.” 

Eliza Fitzmorris turned ashen. Her breath stopped 
in her throat. It had been so long since those happy 
foolish days — so long since the moonlight nights, the 
walks, the innocent kisses, light and inconsequent 
meeting of the lips, and then a boy whistling down 
the street and a blushing girl kneeling at her prayers. 
Had not those memories been dead for many years ! 
Yet, now ! 

“And if you did,” pursued Elizabeth, “you must 
have been very unhappy, so unhappy that you could 
not understand how another woman would feel if she 
didn’t do the same.” 

“ I married the man I respected and cared for,” 
said Mrs. Fitzmorris, “ and we were as congenial as 
husband and wife for many years as most married 
people are. We lived much more happily than any 
eloping couple I ever knew or heard of, and more so, 
than a number of instances where there was supposed 
to be this wild, romantic love on both sides that you 
talk about. In a number of those cases the parties 
concerned found out too late that they had only been 
rash, mistaking mere passion for respect and solid 
attachment. And I warn you, Elizabeth, that poverty 
played its part too. I tell you it is a mistake for a 
girl to marry a poor man.” 

[2 3 6j 


An Ungrateful Girl 

“ Robert is not a poor man, as you mean it,” re- 
plied Elizabeth. “ As for all those sentiments you 
mention, as being necessary, I have them all for him. 
Do you think I do not respect and admire a man who 
already had his reputation as a soldier, and who 
since has endured imprisonment for two years rather 
than purchase his liberty by going over to the other 
side ? If he were to do so, you and Uncle Peter 
might receive him here in this parlor, but I would 
not. I am trying to make you understand, Aunt 
Eliza, that I really know what I am about, and if you 
think it is indelicate for me to say right out that I 
love a man, you ought to know that I wouldn’t if I 
were left alone in peace. But you keep telling me to 
marry for money, and I’m not the kind of girl to sell 
myself.” 

“ You will no doubt find out your mistake when it 
is too late. You have always been wayward and 
headstrong, and it would really be to your best in- 
terest if you were not consulted or reasoned with at 
all, but simply told to prepare yourself to marry the 
husband of our choosing for you on a certain date. 
I believe in the proper exercise of authority to get 
nonsensical notions out of the head of a foolish girl. 
None of us will ever hear to your marrying this man 
who has captured your fancy, and you will find plenty 
of obstacles in the path of your folly if you persist.” 
[ 2 37 ] 


T)alrymple 

“ I have already found obstacles, Aunt Eliza, and 
some of the most serious were not even of your own 
making. But there is one obstacle that will always 
stand in the way of making me marry a man whom 
I do not wish to, and that is myself ! You want me 
to marry Colonel Butherford, but if I could be forced 
to stand before the altar with him I would not utter 
the necessary promises, and no minister would per- 
form the ceremony. You see, auntie, even ‘ the proper 
exercise of authority ’ comes to a stop some time.” 

Farther apart than ever were the poles, the two 
looked into each other’s eyes, one elderly, authorita- 
tive, stern ; the other young, apparently pliable, but 
cheerfully stubborn, “ as sweet as a rosebud but as 
contrary as a mule,” Peter had declared to her aunt. 
Mrs. Fitzmorris’ horror was as genuine as any emo- 
tion she ever felt. She was a woman who all her life 
had succeeded in surrounding herself with artificial 
conditions, and she had lived by false standards and 
nurtured hothouse emotions until her ethics were on 
a level with those of a galvanized puppet. Having 
no resources with which to meet a crude and un- 
blemished morality, she instinctively sought refuge. 

“ I do not know why you should make us so much 
trouble,” she said. “ After all that we have done for 
you it is hard to find you so ungrateful. And you 
not only speak with disrespect, but actually as if you 
[238] 


An Ungrateful Girl 

had no affection for me. I have helped to bring you 
up from babyhood, only to discover that you have a 
heart of stone.” 

“Auntie, I love you and Cousin Amanda and Uncle 
Peter, and I believe you all love me, but I’m a woman 
now, and if I could only have my personal freedom 
and not be told how I must feel and what I must 
think, we wouldn’t have any trouble. I don’t intend 
to be ungrateful, I don’t feel that way, but I’m not a 
child any more — I have suffered too much in the past 
two years. Just don’t worry me so much, will you 
auntie, dear, and see if I don’t come out all right yet 
without disgracing you or myself.” 

She smiled at her difficult relative, but her eyes 
were misty and the corners of her mouth quivered a 
little. Mrs. Fitzmorris failed to note that the key- 
note of affection was missing. 

“ My dear,” she said, “ it is because I am so fond of 
you that I am anxious for your future. You are so 
different from all the young girls I know that it is 
difficult to plan for you.” A recollection that the 
undesired suitor was safely out of the way went 
through her mind, and she added : “ But for the 
present there may be no especial danger for you, and 
I hope that in time you will be sensible enough to 
take advantage of the brilliant opportunities offered 
you and forget these foolish ideas.” 

[ 239 ] 


Dalrymple 

Elizabeth looked down at her embroidery and said 
nothing, and the passage at arms ended in an armed 
truce, with the position of each more clearly defined 
than ever. But Mrs. Fitzmorris was forced to one 
new idea — Elizabeth really was a grown woman. 

After that her stay in New York was brief. Ke- 
turning to Philadelphia, the girl had a short respite 
from the most harassing of the influences that beset 
her situation, for Peter, since the night he had told 
her that Kobert was still alive, had also had an 
illumination on the subject of his niece’s matured 
character, and it had given him pause and food for 
much reflection. 

Mrs. Hardy’s non-committal interest seemed to fade 
into indifference, and in the perfect spring weather, 
with fresh and vigorous currents of hope coursing 
through her, Elizabeth was bathed in the melancholy 
happiness of those who love without visible reward. 


[240] 


CHAPTER XYIII 

Not Your Wife, But Mine! 

T HE defeat of Burgoyne in the autumn of ’77 
had been the turning-point of the Revolution. 
European favor now swung towards American 
arms, and spring of the following year saw the alliance 
between France and the struggling young country. 

Still, matters looked dark enough. The British 
were in control of Hew York, Long Island, Staten 
Island and Philadelphia. The Congress had fled 
across the Susquehanna, and the patriot army suffered 
severely from the cold of a bitter season and the lack 
of the necessaries of life during the winter of 1777-78. 

Elizabeth virtually had no rest from the importunity 
of Rutherford all this time, though as month after 
month passed, and he could wring from her no 
promise or assurance of any kind, he resorted to more 
subtle methods than open love-making, and his atten- 
tions not only became almost reverential, but, in 
marked deference to her intense and increasing 
devotion to the patriot cause, he assumed in her pres- 
ence a respectful and half conciliatory tone towards 
the “ rebels.” 


[241] 


Dalrymple 

“Bess,” said Peter, as they sat at breakfast one 
morning, “ make yourself ready with some finery and 
prepare to go to Philadelphia with me. Sir Henry 
Clinton is to succeed General Howe as commander-in- 
chief of the army, and Sir William and his brother 
are to have a great fete and ball given in their honor 
before they sail. Major Andre has planned it, and 
Colonel Kutherford is to be one of the squires in the 
tournament, and he wishes you to be his lady. I’ve 
told him that you would accept.” 

“ I know what you told him, uncle. I saw him 
yesterday afternoon. But I shall take no part in it. 
For one thing it w r ould be little less than treason to 
join in such honors to Lord Howe when ” 

“ Treason ! Treason ! Egad, Bess, have you lost 
your head ! The only treason is forgetting the 
allegiance due to His Majesty. How often must I 
tell you, girl, that the King owns these colonies ! 
You will go to Philadelphia with me, and let me hear 
no more of such petticoated nonsense. Lord Howe is 
my friend, and we will go to bid him farewell with the 
respect due him.” 

Elizabeth was pallid to an unnatural hue as Peter 
finished, but her blue-gray eyes were fixed steadily on 
him as she replied : “ Uncle Peter, I will go with you 
to Philadelphia and I will attend the ball — that much 
I will do to please you. But that is all. I decline 
[242] 


Not Tour Wife , But Mine! 

to take part in the tournament, and I told Colonel 
Rutherford yesterday that I would not be his lady in 
the fete. That is asking too much, and you know it.” 
Her voice shook a little with the last words. Peter 
knew the blood of his own family when it spoke, and 
moreover he secretly believed that time and fate 
would remove Robert and press Elizabeth into the 
alliance on which his heart was set. He spoke gently 
and courteously. 

“ My dear child, I shall not urge you to do anything 
unpleasant. This is — ah — not political, you know. 
It’s — er — social, purely social, and as both Sir William 
and the Admiral have shown us so many favors and 

done so much to make it pleasant for us in this d , 

this disagreeable state of affairs, it’s a duty we owe to 
them to lend our presence. And others would miss 
you, too, Andre and Rutherford. Yes, you needn’t 
shake your head. You need some recreation. There’s 
no reason why you should shut yourself up as you’ve 
been doing of late. Get yourself a handsome frock, 
Bess, and be the queen of the fete.” He rose from the 
table, and kissing her on the forehead, he added : 
“ I’m trying that new pair of bays this morning. Be 
ready by the fifteenth, Bess.” He swung himself con- 
fidently out of the room, and did not see two great 
tears that fell into Elizabeth’s plate. 

It was now May, and excitement was rife in both 

[243] 


Dalrymple 

New York and Philadelphia over the approaching 
Mischianza. Both cities had been the scene of much 
dissipation among the officers, especially Philadelphia, 
where Howe had his headquarters and where he him- 
self had set the pace in drinking, gaming, and other 
diversions even more discreditable. Andre and Ruth- 
erford both busied themselves in preparations for the 
great Mischianza, and Elizabeth saw little of them 
before she and her uncle arrived in Philadelphia on 
the evening before the fete, having made the two- 
days’ journey there in a coach drawn by four bays, 
and followed by a chaise containing two men servants 
and a maid. 

They drove at once to the house of Elizabeth’s 
great-aunt, and were welcomed by that worthy dame 
in her most gracious manner. In the evening Peter 
went to pay his respects to Sir William and the Ad- 
miral, and Andre and Rutherford called on Elizabeth. 

“ And will the tournament really be so brilliant ? ” 
asked Elizabeth, eagerly, after listening to Andr6’s 
description of the costumes. 

“ Not so brilliant as it might have been,” replied 
Andre, “ since you declined to be one of the ladies for 
the pageant, and you have cost us a knight too.” He 
waved his hand towards Rutherford, “ for he would 
not take part without you.” 

“ I have gained what the tournament has lost,” said 

[244] 


Not Tour Wife , But Mine! 

Butherford, bowing deeply. “I shall now have the 
pleasure of devoting myself to Miss Windham all the 
evening.” 

“ You sly dog ! ” cried Andre, slapping him on the 
back. “ Miss Windham, I shall have to tilt my lance 
for my lady-love to-morrow evening, but believe me, 
my heart will turn to you. My fealty is yours, sweet 
maiden, until all the stars of heaven have fallen from 
their courses, until ” 

“ Hold ! ” cried Butherford. “ I’ll run you through 
if you don’t shut up. He is a fickle deceiver,” he said 
to Elizabeth. “ His vows are not worth the breath 
that utters them. Mademoiselle, until to-morrow 
night I bid you adieu.” He kissed her hand. In her 
room Elizabeth washed the spot his lips had touched, 
and the name she murmured passionately was not 
Butherford’s. 

At midnight on the following night the great fete 
reached its height. The regatta had embarked at the 
upper end of the city, and the various galleys bore Sir 
William and Lord Howe, Sir Henry Clinton, General 
Knyphausen and other British and Hessian officers, 
their suites and many ladies, the women representing 
not only the Tory families, but Whigs also, for the 
darts of Cupid had flown thick and fast that past 
winter, and many of the would-be conquerors had 
been conquered so effectually that when later Wash- 
[ 245 ] 


Dalrymple 

ington chased Sir Henry across Hew Jersey no fewer 
than some six hundred officers and men returned to 
their fair ladies, and their descendants to-day are 
among the most loyal citizens of the United States. 

Kutherford, in full uniform, devoted himself unre- 
servedly to Elizabeth, who was seated on Lord Howe’s 
galley with the beautiful Peggy Shippen, afterwards 
to be the wife of Benedict Arnold, and accompanied 
by Sir John Wrottesley, Colonel O’Hara, who at a 
later date conveyed Cornwallis’ sword to Washington, 
the vivacious Miss Chew, a daughter of the Chief - 
Justice, and a large company of titled and distin- 
guished guests. 

Peggy was radiant in a gorgeous costume which 
has become historic. Lord Cathcart, the chief of the 
knights, was attended by two black slaves, in tunics 
and drawers of blue and white silk, silver chains hang- 
ing over their bare breasts and on their arms broad 
silver clasps. The tourney was like one of old, and a 
company of knights, richly attired, rode into the arena 
and, at the challenge of the Herald of the Knights of 
the Blended Kose, the champions of the Ladies of the 
Burning Mountain engaged their adversaries in com- 
bat with lances, pistols and swords, ending with a fu- 
rious hand-to-hand fight between the two chiefs, until 
the Marshal of the Field rushed in and ended the 
tourney by declaring that the ladies of the rival 
[246] 


Not Tour Wife , But Mine! 

knights were satisfied with the prowess of their lovers 
and bade them desist. 

When the ball opened in the great apartment that 
was like a vision of fairy-land in its pale blue and 
gold, Elizabeth, who had in reality been under a 
nervous tension all the evening, at last regained a 
natural flow of spirits. The haunting sense that 
Robert, in some mysterious way, was near had not 
for a moment deserted her, and the quick, darting 
glances she had involuntarily shot around had not es- 
caped Rutherford’s attention. As they stood together 
in the moment before the first minuet Rutherford, in- 
flamed to an excess of ardor which had not been les- 
sened by potations of wine, could not resist the sud- 
den temptation that assailed him. 

" I do not think he will come,” he whispered to her. 
For an instant she did not seem to understand, then 
her eyes flashed a reply before she spoke. 

“ Do not be so sure. Perhaps your information is 
no better than mine.” 

“ Not so good, no doubt. You Whig ladies have 
mysterious means of communication unknown to us. 
Still, I am willing to lay a wager. What say 
you ? ” 

“ Done, sir.” 

“ A kiss against a kiss. No ! Surely you will not 
hesitate ! ” 


[247] 


Dalrymple 

“ Never ! Though it is scarcely fair for me to accept 
a wager which you have already lost.” 

Eutherford laughed. 

“ I never take a prophecy seriously. But I promise 
you if my rival appears I’ll simply carry you off in 
the good old way that was so successful before later 
and more tedious methods. How will that suit you, 
Mademoiselle ? ” 

“ Perfectly — if you only will I shall be delighted.” 
The coquettish laughter of her eyes above her fan 
was the last thrill that went through him before 
they swung out into the figure. 

At ten o’clock the company had flocked to the 
windows and the balconies to witness the elaborate 
fireworks planned by Captain Montressor, the Chief 
Engineer, and when at last the figure of Fame burst 
from a fountain and blew from her trumpet : “ Les 

lauriers sont immortels,” loud cheers echoed. Eliza- 
beth was silent. The pageantry and excitement of 
the fete had temporarily beguiled her, but now a sore 
pang shot through her. 

“You do not applaud,” said Eutherford. “Will 
you not add your laurels to our heroes ? ” 

“Your heroes are not my heroes, Colonel Euther- 
ford,” said Elizabeth, “ and the Immortals I honor do not 
wear a scarlet coat and gold lace. They are not here.” 
She paused, stopped by the swelling in her throat. 

[248] 


Not Tour Wife , But Mine! 

Kutherford, angered and chagrined, forced a 
laugh. “ Happy Immortals ! ” he said. “ Henceforth 
I shall live only in hempen tow. But though I am 
only an ignoble mortal I dare to worship you. Surely 
I may not be denied the right of homage ? ” 

The reply that rose to Elizabeth’s lips was not re- 
assuring, but ere she could utter it the folding-doors 
leading into a saloon over two hundred feet in length 
were thrown open and supper was announced. 

Towards the end of the banquet the Herald of the 
Blended Kose, in his habit of ceremony and attended 
by his esquires and trumpeters, entered and proclaimed 
as toasts the health of the King and Queen, the royal 
family, the army and navy and their distinguished 
commanders, the knights and their ladies, and the 
ladies in general. The banqueters arose and to the 
musical flourish of the trumpets lifted their wine 
glasses aloft, and under the excitement of the hour 
fair Whig maidens forgot their patriotism under the 
ardent eyes of their lovers and drank to His Majesty ! 

When the last toast, “ The ladies, God bless them 
all,” was sounded, Butherford turning to Elizabeth 
said : “ Though you left your glass untasted to the 
King, I drink to you alone. There is no woman in 
the world but you.” He drained his glass and offered 
his arm, for the company was leaving the tables to 
return to the ballroom. In the re-forming of the 
[ 2 49 ] 


Dalrymple 

groups, there stood near Sir William and Lord Howe, 
Andre, Elizabeth, Rutherford, Peggy Shippen and her 
knight, Peter, gorgeous in full court dress, Sir John 
Wrottesley, Colonel O’Hara, and various ladies of the 
Blended Rose and the Burning Mountain, all in ele- 
gant and picturesque attire and forming the most 
brilliant party of the fete. 

General Howe had been a devoted admirer of 
Elizabeth ever since he met her, and as she ap- 
proached on Rutherford’s arm he bent his eyes on 
her with unconcealed fervor. Well might he do so, 
for her beauty was exquisitely displayed in a Venetian 
costume of the fourteenth century in gold and white 
brocaded satin, the sheen of the silken stuff as yellow 
as sunshine on wheat-fields when they whisper in a 
summer breeze, and gathering in its sumptuous folds 
the glow of the light in the room until she seemed to 
concentrate the myriad points of flame in a nimbus 
that encircled her like a shower of topaz. 

His Lordship bowed deferentially to her. “ Lady,” 
he said, “ I have sworn equal homage to the Ladies of 
the Blended Rose and of the Burning Mountain, but 
they have all been captured by their respective 
knights, and I proclaim you the Queen of the f£te and 
of my heart.” He would have bent his knee, after 
the manner of the knights, but Rutherford, somewhat 
inflamed with wine and stung with jealousy by 
[250] 


Not Tour Wife , But Mine! 

Howe’s outspoken avowal, lost his head in a tem- 
porary madness which had been slowly rising all the 
evening. He made a dissenting gesture. 

“ My Lord,” he said, saluting, “ I must challenge 
your right to the Queen. Your Lordship has the 
honor to do homage to my future wife.” 

In the stupefied instant that held all who heard 
silent, there was a commotion near the doorway; the 
gay and gallant company fell apart and made way for 
an uninvited guest, a tall but emaciated man, with a 
blonde head and broad shoulders, his hollow blue eyes 
blazing with an intense fire, his worn body dressed 
not in silks and satins, but in a soiled and battered 
pair of hempen breeches and a faded blue shirt. His 
face had the prison pallor, and was carved in lines of 
suffering, and his left arm hung across his chest in a 
sling, while on the right temple the deep scar of a 
sabre stroke ran to the roots of his hair. Even as 
Rutherford uttered his ill-timed boast, the unreckoned 
guest strode towards him and heard the words. 
Scarcely had he finished when Robert Dalrymple 
flung himself between Rutherford and the General, 
and taking Elizabeth’s hand from the Colonel’s he 
grasped it in his own and turning to Rutherford he 
cried in clear, thrilling tones : “ Hot your wife, but 
mine ! ” 


[25i] 


CHAPTEK XIX 

On The Field 


E VERY eye was fixed on Robert, as though he 
were one risen from the dead. Tallmadge, who 
followed him closely in fatigue uniform, said 
afterwards that the entire company stood motionless 
as if in a trance. Both men were covered with the 
stain of travel, for they had made hard riding against 
time from New York as soon as Robert was ex- 
changed, and they had been in the saddle almost 
without food or sleep for over thirty-six hours. 

It was a terrible moment for Rutherford. The 
sudden appearance of a man whom he fondly believed 
to be as good as dead, his challenge, the sight of him 
holding Elizabeth’s hand while his own was yet warm 
with the contact, shocked him into an incredulous 
amazement. He stared dumbly. 

Peter’s bland and benignant smile stiffened into a 
ghastly expression. The blood drained slowly out of 
the well-filled veins of his ruddy face, and left him 
chalky. The brief instant of silence was as devoid of 
sound as if Time had stopped the wheels of the world. 
The eyes of Robert and Rutherford clinched in a gaze 
[252] 


On The Field 


that meant more than combat on the field, the full- 
fledged inner man of each leaping towards the other 
in furious desire for the same woman, but under 
the hot rage of the temporary mood lay the cold 
certainty of defeat for one and the thrill of triumph 
for the other. 

As the clear blast of a silver trumpet from the ball- 
room heralded the dance, the spell was broken. 
Peggy Shippen shrieked, and fainted in the arms of 
her knight, and other women betrayed symptoms of 
following so opportune an example. 

“ Dalrymple ! ” exclaimed Sir William, who, al- 
though he saw Robert for the first time, was fully ap- 
prised of Rutherford’s secret efforts against his ex- 
change. Elizabeth lifted her head from Robert’s 
shoulder, where it had fallen for a moment in a swoon 
of joy, and all the spirit of her finely tempered blood 
rushed to her lips and sparkled in her eyes as she held 
herself proudly erect and said : “ Yes, my Lord, and 
he has said truly. Your Lordship, permit me to de- 
cline the offer you have made me.” Still holding 
Robert’s hand she swayed to the floor in a low curt- 
sey ; in her flowing, yellow draperies her fair beauty 
was set like a lily in a cup of gold. The General 
turned color. 

“ Pardon, mademoiselle, I abdicate, but if your taste 
were better I might regret the loss more.” He turned 
[ 2 53 ] 


Dalrymple 

to Robert. “ You have scarcely come hither with a 
wedding garment on,” he said, mockingly, “ and since 
you have entered the lists unannounced and won so 
fair a prize, I take it for granted that the fete is over 
for you.” His significant glance of dismissal included 
both Kobert and Tallmadge. 

“ My Lord,” replied Robert, with stern self-posses- 
sion, “ it is true I am not clad as a bridegroom, or as 
becomes so brave an assembly, but ’tis well that I am 
clothed at all, for my last garments were devoured by 
the vermin on board His Majesty’s ship, the Jersey , 
and had I brought my companions with me they 
might be even more unwelcome guests than myself. 
As for Miss Windham’s taste, I leave it to better 
judges than the man who questions it. I entered the 
lists long ago,” — he looked straight at Rutherford — 
“and, though I may be unworthy, the knight who is 
chosen by the lady wins. My Lord, I have the honor 
to bid you adieu. Come, Elizabeth.” 

The Admiral had been silent ; now he spoke con- 
temptuously : “Begone, jackanapes! You are more 
fit for the bone-yard than for the ballroom, but, even 
so, we are not done with you, and such as you yet.” 

“ True, my Lord ! ” cried Robert, flaming into a 
white heat, “and we are not done with you yet! 
Thanks to you I am scarce more than bones, and ’tis 
God’s mercy that they are not whitening with others 
[ 254 ] 


On The Field 


on the beach in full view of His Majesty’s prison ships. 
But with what muscle and sinew are left me I shall 
serve His Excellency, General Washington, against 
you, and if my bones may yet be ground into powder, 
and bullets be cast from the iron in my blood, so 
much the better. Right you are, your Lordship ! You 
are not done with us, and, living or dead, we are not 
done with you.” 

He thundered out the last words with the defiance 
of a battle charge on the field. Intense passion trans- 
formed his attenuated figure into a threatening giant 
with power to slay. By his side Elizabeth, pale, but 
radiant with courage, regarded the Admiral with 
scarcely less of heroism than Robert. Tallmadge had 
silently approached and stood on the other side of 
Elizabeth, and the three were lined thus against the 
Commander-in-Chief of the British army and the Ad- 
miral of the navy, as if the spirit of independence per- 
sonified rose up to defy His Majesty. The Admiral 
turned to his brother. 

“ Let us go into the ballroom,” he said. “ We must 
not neglect those who are here to do us honor.” 

Rutherford was savage with the sting of his defeat. 
He stepped forward and confronted Robert. “His 
Lordship is right,” he said. “ We have dallied with a 
tiresome interruption too long. Unless you are deal- 
ing in mock heroics, I shall be happy to encounter you 
[ 2 55 ] 


Dalrymple 

on the field, not in an affaire d’ honneur, where only 
gentlemen may meet, but in the open fight where we 
crush our low-born enemies, provided they do not run 
first.” His eyes sought Elizabeth’s half tauntingly. 
“Mademoiselle, I part with you in deep regret at 
thought of your fate. Were it not for the more loyal 
of your countrywomen I should be inconsolable. 
There are many fair damsels here who drank to the 
King’s health.” 

“ More shame ! ” shouted Tallmadge. “ More shame 
to you ! ” he cried, pointing accusingly towards a bevy 
of Whig women surrounded by their British lovers. 
“You are traitors all, and unfit for such patriots as 
fight in cold and hunger, or rot in prisons. Shame ! 
Shame ! Hide your heads, every one of you ! Come, 
Robert, this is no place for honest men and for a loyal 
woman.” 

He led the way towards the door. Elizabeth took 
Robert’s uninjured arm and curtsied deeply to the 
Admiral and the General, who made stiff and un- 
willing bows. Robert saluted briefly and looked 
Rutherford squarely in the eye. 

“ On the field, sir, where even a gentleman may run 
a red-coated cur through.” 

The two men looked death at each other, and Ruth- 
erford, speechless with rage, was unable to reply as 
Robert and Elizabeth moved to depart. 

[256] 


On The Field 

“ Elizabeth ! Elizabeth ! ” cried Peter, wild with 
anger and defeat. 

She lifted her head proudly. “ It is too late,” she 
said. 

“ It is not too late,” roared Peter, now as angry as 
a maddened bull. “ Stop ! ” he added, making a move 
forward and stretching out his arm as if to hold 
Robert. “My Lord,” he said to Howe, his voice 
shaking in rage, “ how is it that you suffer this man 
and his companion to depart? They are rebels 
within our lines and subject to arrest. Pray hold 
them, my Lord.” 

Robert smiled. “I fear you will not have the 
pleasure,” he said. “We are within the lines on safe 
conducts, signed by Lord Percy, and we are entitled 
to protection until noon to-morrow, when we take 
our leave.” He reached within his pocket and pro- 
duced a paper, and Tallmadge did the same. The 
General examined them closely, with his brother and 
Peter looking over his shoulder. Apparently the 
suddenness and daring with which the two had made 
their appearance had completely deprived every mind 
of the thought which Peter alone had remembered. 
Howe reluctantly folded the papers and handed them 
back. 

“They seem regular,” he admitted, “but I must 
regret Lord Percy’s generosity in the matter. How- 
[ 2 57 ] 


Dalrymple 

ever, until noon,” he laid a heavy emphasis on the 
words, “ that generosity shall not be violated.” 

Eobert bowed. “ I thank you, my Lord. Pardon 
me if I cannot share your regrets.” 

“ Elizabeth,” said Peter, white with rage, “ I forbid 
you to stir from this room with that man.” 

“ Sir,” said Elizabeth, and there was a ring in her 
voice he had never heard, “ I take no more commands 
from you. I am of age and you have no right to con- 
trol my actions. I have obeyed you thus far only be- 
cause it was not in my power to do otherwise. Now 
it is different.” She turned to Eobert, but Peter, 
fairly blind with the passion that had towered in him, 
flung himself towards Eobert with his arm upraised. 
He was caught by Andre and Captain Cathcart and 
forcibly restrained. 

“ Calm yourself, sir,” said the General. “ Why not 
let your niece share Mr. Dalrymple’s safe conduct ? ” 
There was a sneer in his voice. Peter, panting, 
endeavored to shake himself loose from the grasp 
that held him, while the guests fell into a new com- 
motion. 

“Come quickly,” urged Tallmadge. He led the 
way as he spoke and they passed out under the 
illuminated arch, down the long glittering ballroom 
and out under the rose-garlanded doorway, Elizabeth 
looking every inch a queen, even though her knight 
[258] 


On The Field 


were not in kingly array. Every man in the room 
watched her enviously, while among the women 
tongues began to buzz in aught but admiration, and 
the epithets that were hissed behind dainty fans were 
worse than “ traitor.” As they disappeared the two 
young officers who had held Peter back released him 
from their hold, though his heavy breathing and 
purple face bespoke his fierce mood. 

Sir William affected to laugh. “ Do not take it so 
much to heart, Peter,” he said. “This is a most 
extraordinary rebellion, and I shall have a tale to tell 
of this when I get home. You have indeed prepared 
a unique entertainment, Andre. Have you any other 
surprising feature in store ? ” 

“ Sir,” said Andre, gravely, “ I bade no imprisoned 
rebels to this fdte.” 

“ Well, there was at least one unimprisoned rebel 
in hoop and stays,” said the General, more lightly. 
“This insurrection is all an affair of petticoats, eh, 
Peter?” 

“ Yes, my Lord, as is all the trouble in the world.” 

“Tush! Some of these fair dames will hear you. 
What next, Andre ? ” 

“The ballroom awaits your Lordships’ presence. 
Cathcart, pray have the herald sound the trumpet 
again.” 


[ 259 ] 


CHAPTER XX 

Not To-Morrow — To-Day 

I T was but a few moments until Eobert and 
Elizabeth were alone. Tallmadge, who was 
thoroughly acquainted with the winding walks 
and retired nooks on the country seat of Thomas 
Wharton, where the f6te was given, had conducted 
them to a small bower just off a path, within hearing 
of the music and mildly illumined by the great wax 
lanterns that were hung all over the grounds. Here, 
safe from intrusion and guarded by Tallmadge, who 
smoked and paced in a walk at a discreet distance, 
the lovers were left in privacy in their first meeting 
for more than a year and a half. 

Neither had spoken in that brief journey from the 
ballroom. Eobert’s heart was pounding fiercely at 
his ribs, and in his ears was a strange roaring. The 
lights flashed redly before his eyes, and though he 
felt the warmth of Elizabeth’s arm through his worn 
shirt, and drank in the fragrance of her hair as the 
unaccustomed sweetness smote his nostrils, his head 
felt oddly detached from his body and his legs seemed 
to give under him. 


Not T o-Morrow — To-Day 

Elizabeth, pierced by strange tremors, was over- 
come by a swift and certain reaction in that brief 
passage in the cool darkness. Out from under the 
glare of the lights, released from the spell of many 
hard eyes, the heroic tension snapped. The tender 
familiarity of the night, the old, sweet contact with 
her lover, sweet as the first kiss, and sweeter yet with 
the added poignancy that flavors joy after the long, 
dull pain of separation, rushed in upon her and shook 
her to the foundations of her life. Her womanhood 
grew years in stature while they took that short walk. 

The first moment they were alone they gazed in- 
credulously at each other. Her beauty almost blinded 
Robert. He looked at the delicate curve of her bosom 
above her bodice as the first man might have looked 
at the first woman. She thought not of her loveli- 
ness, nor knew of it. The sadly altered lines of his 
face terrified her. He put out his hand and touched 
her arm with a timid, remote gesture. 

Her faint but agonized cry thrilled him into life. 
There was a hoarse sound in his throat as he kissed 
her time and again, pressing her in his free right arm 
until its bony strength held her warm supple body 
close against his poor, starved frame in an embrace of 
elemental power. Moments passed, speechless for 
both until the extremity of their long-denied love had 
been relieved by caresses that meant life. When at 


Dalrymple 

last they looked sanely into each others’ eyes again, 
both were in tears. 

“ Oh, my poor boy,” sobbed Elizabeth, “ they have 
almost killed you! Robert! Robert! Your arm! 
That scar ! ” She laid her cheek on his bandaged arm 
with such a gesture as one would use to a sick child, 
and then kissed the closely-drawn lint straps with in- 
finite pathos. 

“ My arm is all right, and the scar isn’t anything. 
It’s getting well now, and I’m well, well and strong. 
Don’t grieve, Bess. Sweetheart, look up into my 
eyes. Oh, my God ! If I had not remembered that 
look all these months I should have died ! I used to 
see it at night when I looked out through the air-port. 
Bess, do you love me ? ” 

When the passionate whispered vows of their affec- 
tion had died into wordless silence, Elizabeth saw that 
Robert was deadly pale, and his body was trembling. 

“ Oh, sit down ! ” she cried. “ My darling, you are 
ill, faint, hungry perhaps. I will call Colonel Tall- 
madge and have him bring you some wine.” 

She pushed him down into a large rustic seat. He 
grasped her hands and drew her down beside him. 

“ No,” he said. “ I am neither ill nor hungry, and 
I want nothing but you for my food and wine. I do 

not weigh as much as I did once, and ” He made 

a long pause, while Elizabeth painfully noted the evi- 
[262] 


Not To-Morrow — To-Day 

dence of liis physical weakness in his short breath and 
the violent and irregular fluttering of his heart under 
his faded blue tunic. He caught his breath resolutely 
and added : “ I’m not very strong. It was a hard 
ride from New York. I was exchanged only day be- 
fore yesterday, and Tallmadge told me that your un- 
cle had brought you over to the fete, and we came at 
once. Stay here a while with me, dearest, and tell 
me about yourself. I have known scarcely anything 
all these accursed months. We can be together for a 
little while, and then Tallmadge will take me to a 
friend’s house for the rest of the night, and to-morrow 
you shall be mine. We will be wed, Bess, without 
delay, and you will find yourself the wife of a man 
with only one arm until the other one mends, but I’ll 
do my best to make one do duty for two.” 

He made good his words. A strain of music came 
to them from the ballroom where the fete had swung 
into hilarious merriment. Elizabeth lifted her head 
from Robert’s shoulder. 

“ Listen ! ” she said. “ The dancers ! Oh, how glad 
I am to be here with you ! It is too good to be true. 
Robert, am I dreaming, or is it true ? ” 

“ It is no dream. It is true, as true as that you will 
be my wife to-morrow.” 

She blushed divinely. “Your wife, Robert, yes; 
but not to-morrow. It was midnight before supper 
[263] 


Dalrymple 

was over, and now it is morning. To-day, sweetheart, 
not to-morrow.” 

She nestled against him as one bird might against 
another in the nest. Despite the radiance of her 
beauty, a loveliness that was all alluring in curve and 
softness and color and tempting outline, the purity 
and sweetness of her soul illumined her with spiritual 
grace. Robert, out of the ship’s inferno, felt as 
though waves of light and perfume penetrated him. 

“ To-day, then, and let to-day be all eternity, and 
every moment now.” He drew her closer to him half 
tenderly, half fiercely. 

“You are cold,” she whispered, as his cheek touched 
hers. The hour just before the dawn was slipping 
away, and the air that swept into the little bower was 
indeed chilled with the rawness of spring. Tallmadge 
had thrown his cloak about him and sat motionless on 
a wooden seat beyond hearing, a faithful sentinel. 
Elizabeth gave one look at Robert’s pallid face, his 
illy-clad figure, and then with one motion of her arm 
she gathered up her sweeping golden train, and draw- 
ing his head down on her shoulder, she threw the 
shimmering folds about them both in a yellow silken 
flood that submerged the two forms in one covering. 
His head sank lower than her shoulder, and as she felt 
his hard, bony frame relax against the warm supple- 
ness of her own body, and heard the long inward 
[264] 


Not T o-Morrow — T o-Day 

quiver of relief that ran through him, the deeper 
mystery of love surged up in her woman’s breast, and 
with the affection of a mother for her child she poured 
out towards him a flood of maternal love that swept 
them to that supreme height where the bliss of 
heaven on earth is given to those who love and suffer 
and are faithful. At intervals they spoke in low 
tones and in brief, broken sentences, but their joy was 
too acute for many words, and chiefly they dwelt in 
the perfect communion of silence. Then they entered 
into the details necessary for the contemplated mar- 
riage, and Eobert explained that Elizabeth was to go 
to the house of a relative of Tallmadge and be met there 
at ten o’clock by himself and Tallmadge, accompanied 
by the minister and be married at once, after which 
they would leave the city and go straight to Washing- 
ton’s camp at Yalley Forge. 

“Ye must go now,” he finished, “if you expect to 
get anything out of your uncle’s house before he 
returns. Do you think it is safe to go ? ” 

“ Yes ; I believe that even he would not attempt to 
stop me now after I have openly defied him. He 
knows that I have his own blood in me, and I have 
long told him what I would do the minute you were 
free.” 

“Well, we must be off at any rate. I’m not 
certain that some trick won’t be turned on me, 
[265] 


Dalrymple 

though I’m supposed to be perfectly safe. We will 
shake the dust of this town off of our feet some time 
before noon. Kiss me good-bye now until you are my 
wife.” 

When their lips had parted, after more than one 
kiss, Bobert arose and carefully spread Elizabeth’s 
train out in all its rippling yellow sheen and looked at 
her from head to foot. 

“ The Knight of the Broken Arm and the Battered 
Head swears that his lady of the Golden Kobe is as 
superior to the ladies of the Blended Bose and the 
ladies of the Burning Mountain in wit, beauty, virtue 
and accomplishments as the sun is to a tallow candle. 
Lady, on my knee, accept my homage.” 

He knelt and kissed first her hand and then the tip 
of her dainty satin slipper. She took from her bodice 
a knot of perfumed lace and ribbon where it had lain 
against her heart, and handed it to him. 

“ Accept my favor, Knight of the Broken Arm and 
the Battered Head, and guard this token well.” 

“ With my life.” He pressed it to his lips and then 
thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. Gay voices, the 
roll of wheels and the bustle of departing revelers 
came to them in snatches. 

“ The f6te is over,” said Bobert. “We must go at 
once. Without fail at ten, Bess ? ” 

“Without fail.” 


[266] 


Not T o- Morrow — T o-Day 

" Ben ! ” called Robert. Tallmadge, pipe in hand, 
appeared. 

“ The last ones are leaving,” he said. “Andre just 
told me that Peter was going to have the grounds 
searched for Miss Windham. My carriage is ready, 
and if you come at once we can go out by a private 
way and I can drive you to your aunt’s house before 
he gets home. That will give you time to deliver 
yourself into the hands of your maid behind a locked 
door before he can resume operations.” 

“Ben, you have saved us both. I’ll match you 
against Howe himself. Come quickly, and let us 
throw the old fox off the trail.” 

They followed Tallmadge through winding ways 
to the edge of the grounds unseen and entered the 
coach. 

It was four o’clock, and light with the first soft 
pink radiance of a May morning. As they rolled 
swiftly away a red-coated colonel of infantry who had 
dallied with much wine supported himself against a 
budding maple and hiccoughed : “ God save the 
King ! ” 

The three in the coach looked at one another. 

“ His Majesty needs some one to save him from his 
own officers,” said Tallmadge. “Miss Windham, I 
trust that you enjoyed the f6te.” 


[267] 


CHAPTER XXI 


Dalrymple Is Arrested 

HE half hour that Peter spent in searching 



the grounds for his niece gave the party time 


to make good their escape. As they sped 
along Tallmadge instructed Elizabeth to rouse her 
maid, exchange her ball gown for a simple one suit- 
able for such a journey as they were about to under- 
take, and on no account to try to take away more 
than Julia could comfortably pack in one small 


bag. 


“ You are to be the wife of an officer of the Conti- 
nental army,” he said, “ and I assure you the wives of 
the officers at Yalley Forge are in plain raiment and 
without any show. Mrs. Washington has spent most 
of the winter knitting socks for our barefoot men, 
though her kind offices could not provide for the 
army, and in most of the huts the men have taken 
turns sitting up all night by a little fire to keep from 
freezing. We have not had a season of feasting.” 

“ I shall be honored to join that company,” said 
Elizabeth, her heart in her voice. “ I have not had 
the pleasure of meeting the lady of General Washing- 


068 ] 


Dalrymple is Arrested 

ton, but if she is as agreeable as he is himself I know 
I shall love her.” 

“ The soldiers adore her, but the same can be said 
of both. We shall be at your aunt’s house in a mo- 
ment ; we will assist you to alight, drive off and return 
in exactly half an hour, when you are to appear at 
the door and accompany us.” 

“ If she is not locked up,” said Robert. 

“Uncle Peter will not dare to,” said Elizabeth, 
haughtily. Her spirits had risen ; the adventure, the 
danger of discovery, the new tingling of her nerves 
under the strange and exciting experiences of the 
night, spurred her blood to a quick circulation that 
buoyed her up in the seventh heaven. 

“ I’m not sure what he will or will not dare,” re- 
plied Tallmadge. “ It is quite sure that we must not 
waste any time.” 

The coach drew up as he spoke. Robert got out 
and helped Elizabeth to alight, saying : “ Make haste. 
Remember, half an hour, not a minute more, a plain 
gown and bring no fripperies.” 

" As you say,” returned Elizabeth, laughing. “ I 
am evidently to be a bride without a bride’s priv- 
ileges.” 

She ran up the steps of the low stoop as gaily as if 
on the lightest and most sportive errand in the world, 
instead of encountering a dangerous hazard before 
[269] 


Dalrymple 

either she or Robert would be safe, but she was under 
the influence of the excitement of happiness, which 
has a more potent delirium than any wine. 

She was admitted by Joe, the old colored servitor 
who had been with Mrs. Wilkinson for years, and 
who appeared rubbing his eyes and only half 
awake. 

“ I ’clar to goodness, is dat you, Miss Bess ! ’Pears 
like I jus’ shut my eyes dis minute. Whar’s Marse 
Peter ? ” 

“ He was detained to speak with Lord Howe, and 
sent me home with an escort. Go back to bed, J oe, 
and finish your morning nap.” She hastened up the 
stairs as she dismissed the servant and entering her 
room aroused Julia. Five minutes later, the maid, as 
much excited as her mistress, was engaged in the 
duties of the toilet with her eyes bulging and excla- 
mations of amazement breaking from her, as she flew 
hither and thither, drew out various garments and 
hastily folded them into the traveling bag. 

“ Hot that pink satin bodice, Julia,” said Elizabeth, 
as the girl laid out a dainty waist. “ Get plain things, 
as I told you. Where is my gray gown ? I shall 
wear that.” 

“ Beg pardon, Miss Bess. I’se so consternated wid 
dis news dat I doan know what I’se erbout. Fo’ de 
Lawd, but won’t dat Miss Peggy Shippen done have 
[270] 


Dalrymple is Arrested 

conniptions when she fin’ out dat you get to elope 
befo’ her ! Dat girl been flirtin’ wid ebery officer in 
dis town all winter. I hear a lot ’bout her goings on.” 

“ Oh, Peggy did quite a neat little turn herself last 
night. I was too much excited to pay particular at- 
tention, but I’m sure they had to cut her staj^s off of 
her. I wouldn’t lace like that for anything.” 

“ No, Miss Bess, an’ you never would have to with 
dat waist. Jus’ wait till I hook you up. Lawd ! I 
wonder what dat Mr. Dalrymple do the first time he 
sees dat lovely hair runnin’ all over your white shoul- 
ders ! ” 

Elizabeth took a final glimpse of herself in the little 
glass and saw a lovely, flushed face above the gray 
gown. “We have not a minute to spare,” she said. 
“ Julia, go and look out and see if any one is stirring 
below.” 

The girl reconnoitred and reported that all was 
quiet and then took up her post at one window, 
while Elizabeth stationed herself at another to see the 
carriage approach. They had scarcely settled them- 
selves when Elizabeth saw it turn the corner and 
with a smothered exclamation of joy that they were 
not discovered they stole quietly down the stairs and 
were ready to enter as the coach rolled up the still 
deserted street. Hardly had they disappeared from 
view when Peter turned his horses homeward, rage, 
[271] 


Dalrymple 

disappointment and mortification waging bitterly in 
his heart. 

He had been induced to remain at the f6te by the 
combined entreaties of Howe, Andre, Cathcart and 
others, all of whom had assured him that for the 
present, as nothing could be done to restrain the 
young lady short of actual force, it would be best to 
leave her alone. He had at first acquiesced in this 
view, but repeated visits to the punch bowl had 
changed his mind, and he had announced that he 
would search the grounds, search the city, if nec- 
essary, find his disobedient niece and put her under 
lock and key to keep her from disgracing herself by 
marrying a rebel, the “ rebel ” being qualified by a 
list of sulphurous adjectives too vehement to repeat 
here. His search of the grounds had availed nothing, 
as Andre, who was unwilling for anything unpleasant 
to happen to Elizabeth, had warned Tallmadge just 
in time. As Peter approached the house Kutherford 
on horseback reined up by the side of the coach and 
said : 

“ Well, Peter, accept my congratulations on your 
niece’s husband. They made a fine looking couple, 
didn’t they ? ” He laughed and flicked his whip. 

“ Damn it ! ” roared Peter. “ He isn’t her husband 
yet.” 

“ Ho ; but it doesn’t take a parson long to tie the 
[272] 


Dalrymple is Arrested 

knot for a hot-footed pair. I don’t suppose you’ll 
lock Miss Windham in the garret on bread and 
water.” 

“ Egad ! I’d like to. By heaven, Butherford, I 
wish you’d got the girll I’m sick of this damned 
country, and I’d like for us all to go to England. 
Would you resign your commission ?” 

“ I’d resign my hopes of heaven,” said Rutherford, 
with a deep oath, “ but it’s over. That puppy ! ” He 
shut his jaws with a snap. 

" Ay,” cried Peter, spilling snuff out of his box in 
his agitation. “ ’Tis a pity there’s not a way to fix 
the slithering jackanapes.” 

" Hold ! ” fairly shouted Rutherford. “ I have it ! 
Dolt that I was not to think of it before ! ” He 
wheeled his mount and dashed off in the opposite 
direction, leaving Peter almost falling out of his 
coach as he vainly craned his neck after him. 

“ What can it be ? ” he mused to himself as he 
entered the door. “ There may be a way yet. 
Zounds ! I wonder if she’s here ! ” He knocked on 
Elizabeth’s door and was answered by silence. Again 
he knocked and called her name and then Julia’s. 
As his hand fell heavily on the door in his haste the 
half closed latch gave way, the door flew open and he 
stood gaping on the threshold at the sight that met 
his eyes, the wordless evidences of flight that told all 
[ 2 73 ] 


Dalrymple 

without possibility of doubt. His loud cry brought 
Joe fully awake now and startled to hear his master’s 
voice in such tone. 

“ Joe ! ” shouted Peter, “ where is she ? Where is 
Elizabeth? Answer me, black dolt.” He stamped 
his foot, quivering from head to foot. 

“ Fo’ de Lawd, sah,” answered the trembling 
negro, “ I doan know whar Miss Bess can be, an’ dat 
Julia too. I done let Miss Bess in dis house not an 
hour ago, and she tole me dat you’d be here soon. 
I saw her come up dis stairway wid my own 
eyes.” 

Peter groaned and sank into a chair. “Gone! 
Gone!” he ejaculated. “Send Mrs. Fitzmorris here 
at once,” he added. 

“ Yes, sah,” replied Joe, thankful not to be ordered a 
whipping. He started to run and nearly fell over the 
lady herself coming in at the door with every evi- 
dence of agitation on her face. She was not as 
beautiful as if she were queen of the May, for the 
cries of Peter and Joe had summoned her from her 
bed in nightgown and curl-papers, her cap set awry on 
her head and her feet in carpet slippers completing 
her toilet. 

“ What has happened ? ” she asked. Peter pointed 
to the empty bed, and her eyes rapidly swept the 
room, taking in the disarray of the wardrobe, the 
t 2 74] 


Dalrymple is Arrested 

dressing drawers and toilet table, and she gave an 
hysterical cry. “ God’s mercy ! ” she shrieked, “ what 
is this ? ” 

“ Elizabeth has gone,” said Peter. “ Gone, do you 
hear, with that infernal Whig rebel Dalrymple, who 
has carried her off God knows where ! ” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris promptly gave way to her nerves 
and holding up her hands gave vent to shriek after 
shriek until Peter angrily told her to shut up. “ One 
would think you never tried to elope yourself,” he 
added. “Have you forgotten that little affair of Jack 
Thompson, when the rope broke on you and you were 
locked up in your room for a week ? ” 

“ I am chilled,” answered Mrs. Fitzmorris, waiving 
the question. “ She is gone, Peter, but I know 
nothing of it. Let us go to the dining-room while 
you tell me about it. I always knew she would do 
something to disgrace us.” 

Peter in the dining-room had resource to the de- 
canter and then told the story of the night, inter- 
rupted by many exclamations. When he had finished, 
though still excited, he was calmer and declaring that 
he would not rest until he had found her and brought 
her back he sent for Joe, ordered the carriage, and 
went to his room to make a change of clothing. 
Scarcely fifteen minutes later, having hastily par- 
taken of a cup of coffee, he rode away from the house 


Dalrymple 

accompanied by the black, and Mrs. Fitzmorris re- 
turned to her duties as hostess to several of the 
younger British officers who were quartered on her, 
and who came trooping in from the ball anxious to 
learn the outcome of the scene that had transpired 
before their eyes, in the midst of the fete. 

At ten o’clock Elizabeth, having had a couple of 
hours’ rest and a light breakfast, was at the head of 
the stairway in the hospitable home of Mrs. Kent, 
Tallmadge’s relative, an ardent Whig lady who was 
delighted with the prospect of a romantic wedding 
under her roof. A few friends had been hastily sum- 
moned and all was in readiness. Julia hovered near 
Elizabeth constantly, assuring her for the thousandth 
time that she looked “ jus’ like a angel,” and Elizabeth 
herself, as the moments flew by towards the hour set 
for her happiness was conscious that the lighter ex- 
citement of a few hours previous had settled into a 
deeper and more heartfelt emotion that concentrated 
itself in the sacred name of wife that lay deep within 
her heart. Ten o’clock came and went, and when a 
few moments had passed and neither Robert nor Tall- 
madge appeared a certain uneasiness obtained a hold 
on every one save Elizabeth, who smiled and did not 
seem to pay any attention to it. When fifteen min- 
utes had gone even the clergyman seemed disturbed, 
and Mrs. Kent went up-stairs to Elizabeth. 

[276] 


Dalrymple is Arrested 

“Do not be alarmed,” she said. “It seems odd 
that they are not here, but something has undoubtedly 
detained them for a brief time only. Do not give 
way to any agitation now that will spoil your looks 
at the last moment.” 

Elizabeth was pale but composed, and said cheer- 
fully : “ I am not alarmed, but any delay now is very 
trying. You see, the time is so short.” 

The sound of running feet in the hall below at- 
tracted the attention of both, and Mrs. Kent went 
to the door, while Julia slipped by her and halfway 
down the stairway. In less than a moment the 
girl was back in the room, a ghastly color under her 
mulatto skin, and crying and moaning she ran to 
Elizabeth, threw herself on the floor at her feet and 
burst into a flood of tears. Frightened, Elizabeth 
rose as Mrs. Kent approached her saying: “My 
dear, my dear, be brave, be ” 

“ Oh, what is it ? ” cried Elizabeth. “ What is it ? ” 
she cried again. She ran by Mrs. Kent and fairly 
flew down the stairway almost to the foot before she 
saw that Peter was there surrounded by the guests 
who had flocked out of the parlor into the wide entry 
hall. She stopped short, shocked into inaction by the 
unexpected sight. Peter's face had gone white. He 
stepped towards her and spoke calmly and with grave 
authority. 


[2 77 } 


T)alrymple 

“ Elizabeth, come home. Lieutenant Dalrymple is 
under arrest.” 

She neither spoke nor moved. Then, as Peter took 
hold of her arm and repeated his words, she staggered 
and with a faint cry fell senseless in his arms. 


[ 2 / 8 ] 


CHAPTER XXII 


As A Friend 

E LIZABETH passed through a fiery trial during 
the next two weeks, and soon realizing that for 
the time being all she could do was to submit, 
she summoned all her courage and went through it 
with a fortitude of which she herself was not con- 
scious, but which commanded the admiration even of 
Mrs. Fitzmorris, who, in a somewhat restricted old 
age, found it difficult to care for much beyond her 
own personal comfort. Peter, distracted by the stand 
Elizabeth took, deep in convivial intercourse with 
Howe and other officers, and fearing too for a change 
of fortunes with the alliance of the French, was not 
entirely happy, even with Robert removed. For he 
disappeared entirely. Philadelphia was, of course, 
under martial law, and although it was beyond the 
code to arrest an exchanged prisoner on a purely 
flimsy pretext, Rutherford had succeeded in having 
it done, and so rigidly was Robert secluded and so 
closely was he guarded that not one word could be 
heard from him. 

But Rutherford was completely discomfited by 
[ 279 ] 


Dalrymple 

Elizabeth’s attitude. He had expected when she 
heard of Robert’s arrest, that she would be willing to 
make some terms with him for his release. But in 
this he was mistaken. Elizabeth sent him word that 
she would not see him, refused to receive the messages 
he sent, and finally dispatched Julia to him to say 
that she had no use for his services and that when 
she sought assistance she would look to others. With 
this word she also returned the basket of fruit he had 
sent, and Rutherford, enraged and humiliated, left the 
house at his wits’ ends. As a matter of fact, Robert’s 
arrest, even in a state of war, was such a high-handed 
proceeding that Rutherford was secretly ashamed of 
it, and had he not had the countenance of Howe, who 
privately winked at it because of his wounded vanity 
on the night of the fete, he would speedily have found 
a means of having him liberated. He took good care, 
though, that Robert was well treated, and when word 
was brought that the prisoner craved the opportunity 
of a few words with him, he promptly declined and 
drank deeply. 

Peter was for returning to Hew York at once, as 
the safest means of removing Elizabeth permanently 
from the neighborhood of a lover who, even though 
under arrest and secluded in a British prison, some- 
how seemed to be mysteriously dangerous. His de- 
sign to leave was strongly combated by Mrs. Fitz- 
[280] 


As a Friend 


morris, who had from the first lent a willing ear to 
vague rumors that the army might evacuate Philadel- 
phia, her terror at the thought of remaining at the 
mercy of the Whigs being perhaps justified in a meas- 
ure by recollections of the treatment she had meted 
out to them. No house in the city was better known 
as a Tory headquarters than hers, and with Peter 
there her gratification was great. None of their Tory 
guests did Elizabeth meet after the fete, save Andre, 
who waited upon her to assure her that he had had 
no part in the detention of her lover. Although true 
to the day of his death to the girl who had some time 
since wedded the wealthy young widower Edgeworth, 
he was plastic to female charms, and Elizabeth had 
attracted him strongly. 

“ I do not need to bid you keep up courage,” he 
said to her at the conclusion of a long talk, “ for you 
are already so brave that you might set an example 
to any soldier. Lieutenant Dalrymple is to be envied 
in his confinement to have the loyalty of so true a 
heart, and I would willingly change places with him 
for the privilege.” His soft brown eyes looked not 
coldly into her own. 

“ What, treason ! ” laughed Elizabeth. 

“ I hold Lieutenant Dalrymple in the light of an 
enemy,” replied Andre, “and as a soldier he must suf- 
fer the fortunes of war, but it is not treason to offer 
[281] 


Dalrymple 

one’s self a ransom for the queen’s pleasure.” He 
touched the tips of her fingers lightly and added: 
“And now I must go. I have come to you as a 
friend, not as one of His Majesty’s officers, and as a 
friend I say that your sweetheart is not a man to re- 
main behind bars. My word for it ’tis only a ques- 
tion of time before you see him again.” 

“ Heaven bless you,” said Elizabeth, fervently. “ I 
feel so myself, and the thought buoys me up, other- 
wise I could not bear it. Oh, Major Andre, it was 
such happiness to see him again, even in his wretched 
plight, and the hours we spent together after we left 
the ball were the happiest of my life.” She paused 
abruptly, blushing deeply, and then said: “Oh, do 
not think me unwomanly, Major Andrfe, I am sure 
you will understand. You have said you come to me 
as a friend, not as a soldier, and I know that, but I 
say to you as a soldier and apart from our friendship, 
that I pray every night for the triumph of our arms 
and the ending of this cruel war which is causing 
nothing but misery.” 

Andre had listened in grave silence. He fixed his 
eyes intently on her and said in a tone of deepest feel- 
ing : “ From your point of view, Miss Windham, you 
are right, and I honor you for your sentiments. For 
myself, as I have told you many times before, I hold 
no enmity towards the Colonists, and were it not for 
[282] 


As a Friend 


the fascination of a military life I would not be on 
these shores. You are a woman, and I fear such a 
reason may not appeal to you, but when the war is 
over I assure you of my intention of remaining a 
decent private citizen to the end of my days to atone 
for this career in search of fame. Does that suit 
you ? ” 

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with mischief. “Yes; but I 
give you fair warning that if you stay on these shores 
you will have to be a subject of His Excellency, Gen- 
eral Washington, for you know he will be the head of 
our new nation.” 

“ Mademoiselle, I fight only men,” sighed Andre, 
“ and besides one may not contradict a lady. I bid 
you adieu.” 

The order for the evacuation of the city followed 
hard on the f6te. The revelings were at an end, and 
terror took hold on the Tories, who by the thousands 
prepared to leave with the fleet, while those who de- 
cided to remain placed themselves under the protec- 
tion of Clinton. The Tory portion of the population 
was stricken with fear at the thought of the Delaware 
being blockaded by the French fleet, and as D’Estaing 
had indeed sailed with twelve ships-of-the-line and 
three frigates, the city was destined to a new order of 
things within a brief period. Mrs. Fitzmorris had the 
news brought to her one morning when Peter was 
[283] 


Dalrymple 

out, and Elizabeth was obliged to soothe the lady’s 
hysterics as best she might. 

“ Oh, where is Peter ? ” she wailed. “ Send for 
him, Elizabeth, and stay here with me. Oh, let us all 
go at once, before we are murdered ! ” 

“ Be quiet, aunt,” said Elizabeth, with the nearest 
approach to sternness she had ever achieved. “ You 
know perfectly well that no one will be murdered. 
For my part, I shall not be sorry to see the army 
go.” 

“ Of course you won’t care,” sobbed Mrs. Fitzmor- 
ris, “ you ought to be ashamed of yourself to be such 
a rebel. Oh, I shall lose everything ! ” The unhappy 
woman groaned in real distress, for it was indeed a 
sore trial to think of parting with the elegant furniture 
and possessions which were as the apple of her eye, 
and which had been treated with such marked respect 
by the British officers. 

“ Lose everything ! ” echoed Elizabeth. “ Lose 
everything ! Oh, aunt, how little you know what 
that means ! ” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris’ complaining reply was cut short by 
the entrance of Peter, red and flurried with the sad 
information. 

“¥e must get out,” he announced, mopping his 
brow. “ Everybody will leave. More than three 
thousand will sail with Howe. Everything is going 
[284] 


As a Friend 

to the devil ; the rebels are going to come in here and 
burn the city.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris shrieked. 

“ What the devil’s the matter with you ? ” demanded 
Peter. “ We’ll be all right, but we’ve got to get out, 
got to get out. No use of crying over spilled milk ; 
the game’s up, and that’s all there is about it. I’ve just 
come from Sir Henry, and he advises us to travel to 
New York under the protection of the troops, as many 
others will do, and so we will . W e can’t be loaded down 
with luggage, so take only what is absolutely necessary, 
and don’t do so much howling, Eliza. There’s only a 
miserable lot of beggars over there in Yalley Forge 
with that Mr. Washington, and there are thirty thou- 
sand of the King’s men in the city.” 

He looked at Elizabeth. In his excitement he had 
for once almost forgotten her presence. Now it oc- 
curred to him that she would want to remain and be 
with the friends of the cause she espoused. But her 
next words mystified him. 

“ Go to New York with Sir Henry,” she exclaimed. 
“ Oh ! ” She stopped short, evidently not finishing 
with what was in her mind, but her face was trans- 
figured with a brilliant smile, and her eyes were fas- 
tened on Peter in a fervent gaze. 

“ Yes, lass. ’Tis the best we can do, and you need 
not be ” 


[285] 


T)alrymple 

“ Tell me,” interrupted Elizabeth, “ does Sir Henry 
take with him all of — of the army ? ” 

“ All, save the portion that goes back to England 
with Lord Howe as escort. Yes, everything, accoutre- 
ments, baggage, men, women and children, babes in 
arms for aught I know. ¥e will be moved like mu- 
nitions of war.” 

“ All,” breathed Elizabeth. “ All ! Oh, we cannot 
go too soon ! ” She rose and hurriedly left the room. 

“ Is she daft ? ” asked Peter, staring. 

“ ’Tis you that is daft ! ” cried Mrs. Fitzmorris. 
“ Have you forgotten that Dalrymple is a prisoner 
under Sir Henry ? The girl is crazed with delight at 
thought of being near him.” 

“ Zounds ! ” shouted Peter, striking his knee, vio- 
lently. “That’s true. I was so disturbed with this 
news that I had forgotten the beggar. But for all 
that she’ll not get to see him. He’ll be far enough 
from us under a strong guard, and once in Hew York 
there are jails and prisons there where he’s like to 
stay. There’s enough to do, Eliza, so make what 
preparations you can. The coach will be ready day 
and night.” 

Philadelphia lived in a turmoil until the troops were 
gone. On the morning of the eighteenth of June the 
army, with its long train of artillery, baggage, prison- 
ers, fleeing citizens and the indescribable nondescript 
[286] 


As a Friend 


belongings of a retreating host, stole away and crossed 
the Delaware at Gloucester Point, and by evening 
were encamped at Haddonfield, but a few miles from 
Camden. That night the opposing armies of Clinton 
and Washington slept on different soil, and in the 
British camp one prisoner under guard and a maiden 
lay awake far into the morning hours, separated in- 
deed, but seeking each other with that searching of 
the spirit which is the telepathy of love. 


[287] 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Fly, Robert, Fly! 


HE heat became excessive while Clinton’s 



retreating train, twelve miles long, pursued 


its slow and uneven way, snake-like, along the 
Jersey roads towards New York. Peter, Elizabeth 
and her aunt knew the discomforts of camp life in full 
before that week was over, but Elizabeth, enlivened 
by the thought of being near Kobert, attained a 
height of cheerfulness at which occasionally her aunt 
grumbled, only to be met by sweet smiles and serene 
replies. 

Life was anything but colorless during that flight, 
and social features were not lacking, for they were 
accompanied by many friends and acquaintances of 
Mrs. Fitzmorris, and day after day found them visiting 
each other’s tents, coaches and conveyances, entertain- 
ing various officers at dinner, and receiving gifts of 
eggs, chickens, fruit, milk and other delicacies which 
from being Whig property speedily became converted 
into Tory assets at the approach of the army. The 
loyalty of Peter and Mrs. Fitzmorris was promptly 
put to the test, for Peter’s four fine bays, behind 


[288] 


Fly, Robert , Fly ! 

which he had traveled from New York to Philadel- 
phia and which were the pride of his heart, were 
replaced on the first day by two base-born animals 
that were more useful than lovely. Peter was sad at 
heart because of this, but when on the second day 
Rutherford told him that the coach must be used for 
two elderly ladies who had fallen ill, he forgot himself 
and complained. 

“ Is this your return for the hospitality enjoyed at 
my house and at Mrs. Fitzmorris’ ? ” he demanded. 
“ You know, sir, that I have two females with me, 
both gentlewomen and accustomed to the comforts of 
life, and it is scarcely fair that they should suffer for 
others.” 

Rutherford laughed. 

“ My dear sir,” he replied, “ ’tis not my wish. I 
should be only too glad to add to the comfort of 
yourself and your party, but I present a personal 
request from Sir Henry, and there’s no help for it. 
There are some seventeen thousand of the army, and 
no fewer than about three thousand of our friends 
from Philadelphia are traveling with us to New 
York, and what with the aged and infirm, the sick, 
the infants, the prisoners, and God knows what trash 
tagged on, we are moving like snails now. Mr. 
Washington is following us, and Sir Henry and Lord 
Cornwallis are not anxious to engage in battle while 
[289] 


Dalrymple 

thus encumbered. You and yours will be cared for. 
I can provide you with a fairly good saddle-horse, 
brought in from an outlying farmhouse this morning, 
and Mrs. Fitzmorris and Miss Windham will be in a 
wagon with good springs and a mattress, which I pro- 
vided myself. With them will be Mrs. and Miss 
Thornton, and I will see to it that Miss Windham’s 
maid follows. Jove, man ! ’Tis not every fair rebel 
would be allowed to travel in state thus with the 
King’s army. Give her my compliments and tell her 
it is a special favor from me.” 

“ She will receive your courtesy with a sorry grace, 
Kutherford, as you know. I need not ask if that 
would-be bridegroom is receiving any particular 
honors.” 

“ Not from me. He’s watched close enough, too. 
No exchange or escape this time for my fine gentle- 
man, and no love-notes smuggled, but I’ve a report 
every day from the guard, and he says that he’s in 
mighty fine feather.” 

“ Ugh ! ” grunted Peter. “ It takes a fool to be 
cheerful under misfortune. He’ll sing glum enough 
when Cunningham’s locked him up in New York. 
Take my coach, Kutherford, and then I’ve nothing 
left but the clothes on my back. I hope you’ll leave 
me those.” 

“ Oh, don’t worry about that. If we need them I’ll 
[290] 


Fly, Robert , Fly! 

give you a blanket and sequestrate you from the 
women. Cheer up, man, we’ll be all right when we 
get to New York, and then we’ll right about face and 
give this Mr. Washington a tussle.” 

Clinton had at first intended on leaving Philadelphia 
to embark on the Raritan at Brunswick, but as Wash- 
ington blocked the way he turned at Allentown and 
marched towards Monmouth Court House, intending 
to go to Sandy Hook and thence by water to New 
York. The pitiable condition of the patriot army at 
Yalley Forge had been a theme of ridicule and 
merriment in the New York and Philadelphia 
theatres all winter, and the gay young officers and 
dashing subalterns who had taken the parts in the 
plays presented, had thrust many a jibe at their sad 
state, and so frequent had these references become 
and so bitter was the feeling between rebel and 
Tory that the playhouses had been filled almost ex- 
clusively by the British and their Tory friends. But 
as Washington pursued Clinton and Cornwallis across 
New Jersey in those hot June days, he had a force 
not inconsiderable, about fifteen thousand troops 
being fit for duty, their physical sufferings much 
abated with the advent of summer, and the men filled 
with a new courage since the Congress had ratified 
the treaty with France. Washington knew that 
Clinton was not in the best shape for a battle while 
[291] 


Dalrymple 

conducting a retreat hampered with an immense 
baggage train and responsible for women and chil- 
dren, and he was cautiously following him on a 
parallel road, intending to attack him whenever he 
could find a favorable opportunity. He had with him 
the best Generals of the army, Wayne, Greene, Lord 
Stirling, Lafayette, Scott and Maxwell, Eamsey and 
Stewart, and Knox and Oswald were in command of 
the artillery. Lee, who was the oldest Major-General, 
was now in command of the advanced corps, and 
within a few days was to earn for himself at the en- 
suing battle that unique and undesirable reputation 
which history deservedly accords him. Washington 
was determined that Sir Henry should not occupy 
the advantageous position of Middletown Heights, 
near Monmouth Court House, and he fully instructed 
Lee with regard to his movements. 

Had not Elizabeth been separated from Robert, or 
even had he been with Washington’s troops, she 
would have been happy, for no especial discomfort 
fell to their lot on that march, and beyond the fatigue 
of constant traveling it cannot be said that any hard- 
ship lay heavily on them. Mrs. Thornton and Mrs. 
Fitzmorris compared miseries, and suffered more than 
all the army, but Alice Thornton, who was betrothed 
to Captain Barrington, of Rutherford’s regiment, was 
a sprightly and engaging girl who made an excellent 
[292] 


Fly, Robert, Fly l 

companion for Elizabeth. Andre had provided a cook 
for their party of ten who messed together, and with 
the contributions of Andre, Rutherford and Barring, 
ton to the table, every day had its quota of delicacies, 
for Jersey gardens had not been neglected, and even 
some hen roosts had escaped the alternate raids of 
rebels and Tories. The heat increased steadily, and 
within a few days after leaving Philadelphia they 
were sweltering in the temperature of August. 
Never had New Jersey looked lovelier. The whole 
country was in the full bloom of early summer, and 
abundant spring rains and the quickly succeeding heat 
had brought all foliage, crops, gardens and orchards 
to their fullest estate. But the loyal little state had 
her resources exhausted in that sunny June, for 
within a few miles of each other, and traveling in 
almost parallel directions, two hostile armies, over 
thirty thousand souls together, marched towards 
New York and gleaned what had been left from the 
winter’s foraging and nearly all which the industry 
of spring had provided, and although a crow would 
not have starved in flying over the route left by the 
armies, he might have cawed in dissatisfaction at the 
remnant left for him. 

When night fell on the twenty-sixth of June, 
Clinton and Cornwallis were not far from Washing- 
ton Court House. The heat w T as almost unbearable 
[ 293 ] 


Dalrymple 

far into the night, and Alice and Elizabeth talked 
girls’ confidences until midnight, and then, when after 
a brief silence, Elizabeth addressed Alice again, the 
girl’s measured breathing assured her that her com- 
panion slept. They were in separate hammocks in a 
tent, Julia lay on the ground on a blanket just inside ; 
Mrs. Fitzmorris and Alice’s mother were in an adjoin- 
ing tent, and Peter and several men were camping 
out for the night under a clump of trees near by. 

Elizabeth turned over in her hammock and looked 
out of the open tent flap. The young moon had set 
and the night was clear and starlit. Beyond the 
dark line of the trees she saw the stars’ calm radiance 
in the velvety, mysterious vault, and the love and 
passion and longing that in the light of day and amid 
the excitement of the march was shut close in her 
heart, surged up in such a flood as had not overtaken 
her since she parted from Robert, and a great wave 
of pain rolled over her, submerging her will and 
senses, and acutely attacking every nerve and fibre 
until she quivered. Bitter rebellion against the fate 
that pursued their love, resentment for the pangs 
they had both suffered, arose in her, and the desire to 
see him for only a moment, to press her lips to his 
once, to whisper a few words of love in his ear, grew 
in her like a soul-hunger. More and more she 
yearned, until spirit and body ached in unison and 
[ 294 ] 


Fly, Robert , Fly ! 

she grew faint. She stifled a sob in the roll of her 
clothing that served for a pillow and cried out in- 
wardly, and as she lay thus the “ All’s well ” of the 
distant sentinel came to her. 

She unclenched her hands and in the sudden swift 
mental action of a minute the incredible idea formed 
itself in her brain that she could slip out and go to 
him. The thought held her motionless with joy for 
an instant ; then, before she stirred, the figure of a man 
on horseback slowly crossed the open, trampled space 
beyond the trees, disappeared for a moment, then re- 
turned and drew up, almost indiscernible, in a black 
shadow. Elizabeth knew both horse and rider, and 
the hopelessness of her love-born idea fell back on her 
like a blow as she recognized the man to whom she 
owed the imprisonment of her lover. 

Motionless, half breathless, she lay, and although 
Rutherford was several rods distant she felt that he 
looked towards her tent, and even through the dark- 
ness she could feel his eyes fixed on her. Then 
through the silence there rang a shot, then another, 
and then a sharp, scattering fire. Nightly encounters 
between marauding bands were not uncommon, and 
as the firing was far in advance Elizabeth was not 
alarmed. She heard her aunt snoring, but Alice 
started up and inquired what was the matter. 

“ Only some raiders outside of the camp no 

[295] 


Dairy triple 

doubt,” she replied. “I don’t suppose it’s anything 
serious.” 

Alice snuggled down and Elizabeth looked again 
towards the rider in the shade, and saw that the 
vague outline had not moved. A confused murmur 
of voices from the group of men indicated that they 
were unwilling to be disturbed. The firing re-com- 
menced, and this time there was a lively spitting of 
rifles. The camp aroused, men appeared, going hither 
and thither, there was hallooing and servants ran 
through the darkness with lanterns. The shots con- 
tinued, and it became evident that something more 
than the usual firing of a raiding party was going on. 
Rutherford walked his horse over towards the tents, 
where the feminine screams of the two older women 
were heard and said in a loud, firm tone : “ Do not 

be alarmed. Nothing of any consequence is happen- 
ing, and you are perfectly safe.” 

He had scarcely finished speaking when several ran 
by the tent uttering broken exclamations as they went. 
“ What’s that ? ” demanded Rutherford, sharply, lean- 
ing forward in his saddle. “ What did you say ? ” 

“There’s been an attack and an escape,” panted 
one of the men. “ I don’t know who it is.” 

Hoofs galloped up as the man finished speaking, 
and a voice which both girls knew cried out: “Is 
Colonel Rutherford here ? ” 

[296] 


Fly, Robert , Fly! 

“ Maurice ! ” cried Alice, almost springing out of 
her hammock. 

“Be quiet,” said Elizabeth, drawing her back. 
“ Let us hear the news.” 

“ What is it ? ” cried Rutherford. As he spoke he 
moved out into a clear plot of ground before the tents 
and a passing negro swung the light of a lantern full 
on his face. 

“ Attack by a detachment of infantry under Colonel 
Tallmadge and a company of light horse. They sur- 
prised the guard and took three prisoners, but two 
were recaptured. Lieutenant Dalrymple has escaped.” 

A loud, clear cry rang out. Every one recognized 
Elizabeth’s voice, and all eyes were turned towards 
the tent, where she appeared like a high priestess of 
the night, her long, dark hair unbound and falling 
over her shoulders and her bare feet peeping from 
under the loose robe of red stuff she had hastily 
thrown about her. She thrust out her round, white 
right arm towards Rutherford and cried : “ Ah, 

Colonel Rutherford, try again ! ” She threw out 
both arms appealingly towards the dark expanse 
lying beyond the small zone of light cast by the 
lantern and cried, with a force and passion that 
thrilled those who heard : “ Oh, fly, Robert, fly ! ” 

She seemed to project herself beyond them with the 
violence of her emotion. 

[297] 


Dalrymple 

Alice had followed her, and supported her in her 
arms as she finished and no one moved but Kuther- 
ford, who uttered a deep and tremendous oath. Then 
he reined his horse nearer the tent, so close that as he 
leaned down and looked into Elizabeth’s eyes he could 
have touched her, and said in a low tone heard only 
by the two girls : u Oh, if I had never seen you ! ” 
He turned away and called to the Captain : “ Come, 

Barrington. There’s not a moment to lose ! ” 

The two men dashed away in the darkness. 


[298] 


CHAPTER XXIY 

For Her Sake 

T HIRTY-SIX hours later the battle of Mon- 
mouth was on in full swing. It was Sunday, 
a hot, brilliant day, the sun scorching down 
mercilessly from a cloudless sky. The thermometer 
had ranged near the hundred mark for almost a week, 
and although on this day, with the reverberation of 
cannon echoing to the rear of Clinton’s baggage train 
and terrifying the women, no one thought of such a 
triviality as looking at mercury in a glass tube, the 
record marked there was memorable for the fatalities 
it caused, and none of the survivors forgot the suffer- 
ing they endured from the temperature. Before the 
sun set on that evening nearly one hundred men died 
of sunstroke alone, and were found dead on the battle- 
field without a wound or mark of any kind, and when 
it is remembered that the official record was ninety- 
six degrees in the shade, the mortality from the heat 
can be understood. 

The topography of the country was favorable for an 
open conflict between the two armies, each of whom 
wished to occupy the desirable promontory of Middle- 
[ 299 ] 


Dalrymple 

town Heights. Clinton knew that Washington wished 
to engage him, and though he would gladly have 
avoided it he felt compelled to continue the march to 
Hew York on the defensive and as well prepared for 
an encounter as was possible with his encumbrances. 
Washington remained in the rear of the American 
army, and sent Lee ahead with Wayne, Maxwell and 
Lafayette as his chief officers, instructing him to fall 
upon Clinton’s rear when he moved on the morning of 
the twenty-eighth. 

All the world knows of Lee’s cowardly conduct at 
this battle, of his hesitancy, his confusing and coun- 
termanding orders to his generals, of his grudging 
consent to Lafayette’s request to attack the rear of a 
large division of horse and foot sent by Clinton, and 
then of his withdrawal of so many regiments that the 
gallant men Lafayette took into action were almost 
cut to pieces for lack of support. It is a shameful and 
familiar tale, and one follows that strange and all but 
incredible account of a retreat begun before the battle 
was fairly at flood tide with a sensation of reluctance. 
And then the panic, the rout, the disorganized and 
helter-skelter flight of that portion of the army in the 
advance regiments, until men who should have been 
calmly loading their muskets on the firing line were 
running to the rear like rabbits, and all because Gen- 
eral Charles Lee, who was disaffected by jealousy and 
[300] 


For Her Sake 


who had withdrawn his hand from the Bible at the 
moment of taking the oath of allegiance before Wash- 
ington, deliberately played into the hands of the 
enemy that day. 

Then came the Chief, Washington, riding like the 
wind on a charger fit for such a master, and encoun- 
tering the scurrying fugitives running pell-mell to the 
nearest shelter. Stung by the wrathful words he 
flung at them, and awed by the authority of his voice 
and manner, the fleeing troops had turned back and 
were engaging their pursuing antagonists when Wash- 
ington came up with Lee himself, retreating at the 
head of the second column. 

His Excellency had engaged in his devotions earlier 
in the day, but the profanity with which he is cred- 
ited when he met his recalcitrant general is equally to 
his credit. When, having sworn roundly, he thun- 
dered out : “ Sir, I desire to know the reason, and 
whence comes this disorder and confusion ? ” Lee, 
shamefaced but defiant, replied sullenly : “ You know 
the attack was contrary to my advice and opinion.” 

“ Then,” said Washington, still in a towering rage, 
“ you should not have undertaken the command unless 
you intended to carry it through.” His superb figure 
rose to its full proportions in the saddle as he wilted 
Lee with his wrath. Turning in righteous rage he 
swung into the full range of battle, rode up and down 
[3°i 1 


Dalrymple 

the line in the face of the hottest fire of the enemy, 
shouting and cheering the men and turning the tide 
of the day to the American arms. It is an old and 
familiar story, but glorious enough to shine even 
through this simple telling, adorned only by the 
splendid heroism of the one man who ever lived who 
could have successfully carried our then weak Amer- 
ican arms to a triumphal issue with the most powerful 
antagonist on the globe. 

While the brief but historic episode between Wash- 
ington and Lee was transpiring, the battle had not 
delayed. Clinton, at first virtually surprised, had 
quickly rallied and had sent large and fully equipped 
detachments to attack Wayne, and that unfortunate 
general, being ordered by Lee to make a feint in at- 
tacking, and then being weakened by Lee’s with- 
drawal of three of his best regiments, met with dis- 
comfiture which must not be charged to him. As 
soon as the Chief returned to the fight, Ramsey and 
Stewart were called from the rear, and Oswald, -with 
two cannon, was posted on an eminence that com- 
manded the British, now sweeping up in battle array 
with fresh troops in perfect alignment and with the 
confidence of success in every man’s face. But the 
retreat was now checked, and the British met with 
unexpected resistance. The field pieces opened fire 
and the height, with Greene on the right and Lord 
[302] 


For Her Sake 


Stirling on the left, was crowned with stubborn and 
homely-clad regiments of the Continentals who now 
confronted the flower of the British army, about seven 
thousand strong, that came swarming up a narrow 
road lined on each side by deep morasses, their red 
coats fairly blazing in the hot sun that rained down 
upon them. 

It was one of the fiercest and most hotly contested 
battles of the Revolution, and it raged for many 
hours. Men were maddened by the heat, and flung 
themselves face down by any muddy pool they could 
find to quench a thirst that was unendurable, and 
then rolled over to die without a struggle from a 
wound that was mortal ere they drank that last 
draught. Knox directed the batteries, and it was 
when the result seemed doubtful that Wayne came up 
with a regiment and, next to Washington, did more 
at a critical moment to turn the tide than any other 
general that day, though it was chiefly due to the fact 
that after Lieutenant-Colonel Monckton, who came up 
with the British, was killed the men fell into a panic. 

It was when the conflict was raging at its height 
that two men met. The last time they had seen each 
other they had looked with hate into one another’s 
eyes in a brilliant hall, surrounded by a gay and gal- 
lant company, and then one — the man without the 
“wedding garment” — had led away a beautiful 
[ 303 ] 


T)alrymple 

woman, while the other had followed him with mur- 
der in his heart, for jealousy is a most bitter thing 
and stops at nothing. Now the man who had carried 
off the fair prize wore the uniform of a Lieutenant of 
the Continental army, and the other was in the dress 
of a Colonel of His Majesty’s arms. 

When their eyes met each knew the hour had come 
when all scores would be settled. There was no delay 
in their encounter. Each was mounted, and both 
fired at the same moment, only to miss fire as if by 
preconcerted action. Rutherford lunged at Robert 
with his sword, but missed him, and his horse went 
down under him with the explosion of a shell as 
Wayne’s men were reinforced by the batteries of 
Knox. The British were pouring out of the defile up 
towards the height, and the fighting was desperate 
and primitive, on horse, afoot, hand to hand. Men 
ran each other through with bayonets and then fell 
calling for water and cursing in awful thirst. Robert 
saw Rutherford go down, and with a cool and calculat- 
ing deliberation prepared to dismount and run him 
through. Before he could get out of his saddle his 
horse quivered and fell in a heap, pinning Robert un- 
der him, but as he went down he saved himself by an 
old trick of the arm and leg and came out uninjured. 
As he rolled over he came in contact with Rutherford, 
and the two men clinched in a struggle of sheer phys- 

[304] 


For Her Sake 


ical strength on the trampled turf. Both were un- 
armed now, and in that hell of heat and unchained 
human passions they fought as two primeval animals 
might have done. 

In first-class condition, they might have been almost 
an equal match for each other, but now the scale was 
uneven. Rutherford was larger, or heavier, to be 
exact, but his muscles were flabby from a winter of 
drinking and dissipation. Robert was slighter in 
frame, but he had gained in health and strength ever 
since he had left the Jersey six weeks before, and he 
was animated by supreme temperamental buoyancy. 
They grappled in silence, while around them raged 
the ear-splitting crack of the rifles and the roar of the 
artillery. Rutherford’s eyes were bloodshot and his 
teeth were set ; Robert was deadly pale and his eyes 
glared with baleful fury, that cold rage of which the 
clear blue eye is alone capable. Their muscles 
strained until they might have been heard to crack, 
had not a tempest of noise swirled about them ; each 
tried in vain to get a final hold on the other, they 
eluded, slipped, twisted, clutched, all to no purpose, 
and on a battle-field where death came to men every 
moment in leaden missiles two men who lay in the 
very path of the artillery fought bare-handed and 
could not so much as keep a compelling hold. Their 
companions bit the dust without intermission, some- 

[303] 


T>alrymple 

times falling flat on their faces, after the manner of 
most men killed in battle, or staggering a little and 
then dropping suddenly with outstretched arms and 
bayonet point digging in the earth. 

The singing of bullets was always like a wild, mad- 
dening music to Robert, and their sinister zip-zip-zip 
went to his brain now and set up a more furious 
whirlwind than the ride of the Yalkyries ever stirred 
in the blood. He was obsessed with a cold fury, and 
he knew that death would pass this man by until he 
took his revenge in his own way. 

Then fate held out the weapon. A man rolled over 
near Robert and he took from the still warm hand his 
sword and poised it above Rutherford, ready to plunge 
it into his heart. As he gloated in that brief instant 
Rutherford spoke : “ I do not ask quarter,” he said. 
“ Go ahead.” He closed his eyes and seemed to cease 
to breathe. In that moment of non-resistance he 
saved his life. The momentum of Robert’s arm was 
already swinging downward, but in that second of in- 
action a fragment of a spent shell shattered the 
weapon in his hand and scattered it harmlessly be- 
yond. Even as it glinted in bits in the blinding sun 
the long-delayed bullets found their way, and one 
scraped Robert’s neck and made a flesh wound whence 
the blood trickled down, and another struck Ruther- 
ford in his left leg, near the thigh. 

[306] 


For Her Sake 


The dripping of the warm blood within his shirt re- 
called Robert to his senses. He put his hand to his 
throat, hastily withdrew it and with a half uttered 
cry thrust it inside of his tunic and drew out a tiny, 
crumpled bit of lace and ribbon, whose edges were 
touched with blood. It was as if a madness had 
passed with the sight of that simple object. Ruther- 
ford, his eyes wide open now, and his face drawn with 
the pain of his wound, looked blankly at Robert, who 
pressed it to his lips, as if it were the sacrament, and 
then, leaning over Rutherford he said : “ For her sake 
I spare your life. She would not have me shed your 
blood.” 

Rutherford, convulsed with pain, attempted to 
answer, but all his dry and parched lips would utter 
was “ Water.” Robert hastily fastened a handker- 
chief about the flesh wound in his own throat, and 
then rose and looked about him. There was no 
abatement of the fighting; redcoats still swarmed 
out of the narrow defile, and dead men filled the 
morasses by the side of the road. Robert carefully 
drew Rutherford away from the zone of the firing 
line and laid him under the shade of a tree with as 
much solicitude as though a few moments before he 
had not attempted his life. Rutherford was almost 
unconscious when Robert finally laid him under the 
tree, and the blood was flowing from his wound. 

[307] 


Dairy triple 

Eobert took off his socks and stanched the flow as 
well as he was able and then went in search of 
water. 

It was at the moment when the gallant Lieutenant- 
Colonel Monckton, in command of British grenadiers, 
led his men to a bayonet charge against Wayne’s 
troops, hoping to dislodge him and storm the eminence 
where the batteries of Knox were making havoc in his 
ranks. There had long been a tradition in the British 
army that the Continentals could not stand a bayonet 
charge, and Monckton, waving his sword and leading 
the way in the face of the fire with loud shouts, came 
up the slope directly in the path of Eobert. It was 
the last hour for the brave young officer. He was 
shot and instantly killed at the outset of the 
charge. 

As he fell the fighting centred around Eobert 
again. The Continentals rushed forward and met the 
assault with a furious defense that checked the 
advance. Eobert had a sword thrust into his hand 
by a young private, who said : “ It’s over for me,” and 
fell heavily. He fought fiercely in that last des- 
perate encounter of the battle, and more than one of 
the enemy fell before him. Within a few minutes 
from the time Monckton led the bayonet charge, the 
well-directed fire from the batteries had killed or 
mortally wounded nearly every British officer within 
[308] 


For Her Sake 


range, and the troops, panic-stricken at the sight of 
their dead and dying commanders, began to fall back, 
and when the “ retreat ” floated out from the bugle 
and the British began to press towards the narrow 
defile whence they had come up, the battle was 
virtually won for the Americans, though fighting con- 
tinued all over the field in places until dusk. 

It was now about the middle of the afternoon, 
and Robert, almost exhausted from the heat and his 
exertions, leaned heavily against a tree under which 
lay a pile of dead bodies. As he tried to collect him- 
self, General Wayne and two of his staff rode up and 
the General said : “ Ah, Dalrymple, I heard you were 
back. How are you ? ” 

Kobert carried his hand uncertainly to his forehead 
in the salute. “ For God’s sake give me water,” he 
gasped. From his throat there came a whistling 
sound. One of the General’s aides quickly drew his 
canteen and said : “ Here, take this. I filled it with 
fresh water only a few moments ago.” 

“ Look out for yourself,” said the General, kindly. 
“ I guess we’ve got them now. Do you need any 
help ? ” 

“ No , thank you, sir,” replied Robert. The Gen- 
eral waved his sabre and rode off, followed by his 
men. 

As the fresh, cooling draught trickled down Robert’s 
[ 309 ] 


Dalrymple 

throat and the parched burning was relieved by it, he 
remembered Eutherford, and running as fast as his 
trembling legs would carry him, tripping over the 
debris of the battle-strewn field and stumbling some- 
times over stark forms, he hastened to him. 

The wounded man had painfully drawn himself 
into a partially sitting position, but he looked more 
dead than alive. Eobert ran to him, and kneeling 
said: “Forgive me for being gone so long. There 
was some hard fighting, and I was caught in the thick 
of it. Drink this.” While he was speaking he held 
the canteen to Eutherford’s lips, and when it fell from 
the fevered grasp of the man who drank not a drop 
remained. Eutherford’s head fell back against the 
trunk of the tree and his eyes closed for an instant. 
When he opened them they were blurred. Pain and 
utter defeat had humbled his haughty spirit, and he 
gazed repentantly at the generous enemy who bent 
over him. 

“ You have saved my life,” he said, “ and I do not 
deserve it. I did all I could against you. I kept you 
from being exchanged while you were on the Jersey , 
and I had you arrested on the morning of the day 
after the f§te. When we got to New York on this 
march I intended to have Cunningham lock you up. 
And you know why I did all of these things.” 

“ Yes,” said Eobert. 


[310] 


For Her Sake 


“It’s over now. I turned every trick I could 
against you, and you have won the game. I’m beaten, 
and I give up.” His voice grew faint. Robert 
leaned nearer him. “Lie down,” he said, gently. 
Rutherford weakly shook his head. After a mo- 
ment he opened his eyes and with a pathetic, beaten 
look in them he said, in a scarcely audible tone : “ She 
never loved me.” His gaze shifted upwards through 
the foliage to the hot sky in a fixed and unutterable 
mournfulness. Pride had fallen away from him like 
a worn-out garment, and in that hour of travail that 
comes once in a lifetime to most of the sons of men 
his heart was laid bare to his conquering adversary. 
Robert was touched to the quick. With a deep im- 
pulse of compassion and sympathy he replied : 

“ At least you have loved a noble woman, and for 
that alone I will forgive you, even as I hope to be 
forgiven, for had I not been reminded of her at that 
last moment I should have been your murderer.” 

A strange, distorted smile wavered over Ruther- 
ford’s pale features. 

“We are even on that score,” he said, with a trace 
of his old manner, “ but for her sake I am glad that 
we are both here.” He paused abruptly, cut short by 
a paroxysm of pain. They were not alone ; the re- 
treat of the British continued, and they were trying 
to draw off their wounded from the field. 

[3ii] 


Dalrymple 

“ Can I do anything for you ? ” asked Robert. 

“If you will, yes, and it will be the last favor I 
shall ever ask of you. I should like to go with 
our own men. My leg is getting rather bad. I’ve 
been here for some hours, you know, but so many 
others were worse off that I said to take them 
first.” 

“You shall go,” said Robert. “I’ll go and see 
General Wayne about it, but, man you’re not done 
for.” 

“ I don’t mean that. I’m done with this war. I 
don’t believe that you people are going to be sub- 
dued, and when I can get up I’ll resign my commis- 
sion and go back to England.” 

“ Don’t go ! ” cried Robert. “ Stay here and find 
that we can be friends as well as enemies.” 

“ I know that now,” said Rutherford, “ for I know 
you. But I couldn’t stay here. There wouldn’t be 
room for me if she were your wife, for I might as 
well tell you I’ll never feel any different about her. 
She’s the only woman I ever loved. Will you give 
her my parting message ? ” 

“Yes, gladly.” 

“ Tell her that it is for her sake that I lay down my 
arms against her countrymen. If you win I’ll say 
you deserve it.” 

“ Rutherford I ” cried Robert, “ I wish to God we 

[312] 


For Her Sake 


had never been enemies ! It isn’t too late now. It 
has all been a miserable business. Let’s begin at the 
beginning again.” 

“ I’m beginning again all right,” said Rutherford, 
grimly, “and so are you, but it doesn’t mean that 
we’ll begin together. Our paths are as widely 
separated as the poles. Try to think of me as kindly 
as you can, and as for me I’ll never forget you — or 
her.” 

As he finished speaking a small party of British 
approached, carrying a pole with a white handker- 
chief tied to the top. The order to cease firing had 
been given by Wayne, and a Continental Captain 
accompanied the field officer and several privates. 

“ Good-bye,” said Rutherford. Robert held out his 
hand and took that of the wounded man in it in a 
clasp that meant more than many words. They 
looked steadily into each other’s eyes. “ You will 
tell her ? ” whispered Rutherford. “ I will tell her,” 
replied Robert. Their hands fell apart. 

“ Lift him carefully, boys,” said the Captain. 
“ There’s a wagon about a mile away, sir, and then we 
can take care of you.” 

Four privates lifted Rutherford skilfully, and the 
little party started down towards the defile. Robert 
stood staring after them in a daze. He felt a touch 
on his shoulder and turning saw Tallmadge. 

[313] 


Dalrymple 

“ Rob ! ” he cried, “ where have you been all day ? 
Are you hurt ? ” 

“ No,” replied Robert. “I’ve just exchanged one 
of His Majesty’s officers for this.” He drew out the 
little knot of lace and ribbon, and Tallmadge under- 
stood. 


[314] 


CHAPTER XXY 


With Our Army 

T WO days after the battle Clinton’s army was 
encamped in and about Hew York, and Peter 
and bis household were once more established 
in their home. The Thorntons came with them, ac- 
cepting the hospitality urged upon them by Peter and 
thankful to rest after the journey. 

Again Elizabeth could obtain no word about Robert, 
and her anxiety and apprehension were rendered more 
acute by Alice’s approaching happiness. The wed- 
ding day of herself and Captain Barrington had been 
fixed for the tenth of July, and Mrs. Fitzmorris in- 
sisted that it should not be delayed, but should take 
place on the appointed date, and with but little dis- 
cussion it was so arranged. Barrington was to be sta- 
tioned on Long Island, and after the wedding all were 
to go over there for the summer, the young bride to be 
with her husband, and Peter’s family and Mrs. Thorn- 
ton were to go with Mrs. Fitzmorris in her country 
house in Flatbush. A turmoil of preparation imme- 
diately filled the house, for in the hurried departure 
from Philadelphia much of Alice’s trousseau had been 

[315] 


Dalrymple 

left behind, and part had been lost en route, so that 
she was sadly shorn of feminine fripperies. There 
was now no time to be lost, and a seamstress was en- 
gaged, two maids pressed into service and the girls 
themselves had recourse to the needle. Informal invi- 
tations were sent out to a small number of the Phila- 
delphia friends of the Thorntons, and the arrange- 
ments were made apace. 

“ Oh, if it could only be a double wedding,” sighed 
Alice, as they sat sewing in Elizabeth’s room one 
morning. “ What a pity it can’t be. It’s so romantic 
about you and Colonel Rutherford.” 

“ Romantic ! ” echoed Elizabeth. “ Oh, Alice, you 
are so happy you cannot understand how I feel. I 
have no time to waste in romance when my heart is 
breaking because I cannot hear whether Robert is 
dead or alive. If you were not here I do not know 
how I could endure it, for I have no sympathy from 
any one. Imagine how you would feel if Captain Bar- 
rington had disappeared after the battle, and you 
could get no tidings from him, with not a single mem- 
ber of your family to give you one kind word.” 

Her self-control gave way. The sharp and conflict- 
ing emotions of weeks had worn even on her steady 
nerves, and now, with the ever present reminder of 
happiness before her eyes in Alice’s innocent joy, a 
deep melancholy had been growing for days. She 
L3i6] 


With Our Army 

dropped the delicate garment on which she had been 
sewing into her lap, and burst into a violent fit of 
sobbing. Alice threw down her work and flew to her. 

“ Oh, forgive me 1 ” she cried. “ Bess, Bess, don’t 
cry. Oh, what have I done ! ” She gathered Eliza- 
beth in her arms and kissed and soothed her with all 
the affectionate wiles of a warm hearted girl. Eliza- 
beth wept unrestrained on her shoulder, and the tears 
were as grateful to her as rain on the parched grass. 
When the gust had spent itself she raised her head 
and smiled through the last tears. 

“I’m better, Alice, dear. Don’t worry about me. 
I didn’t think I’d give way, and I won’t again. It’s 
all over now.” She sighed, the long and trembling 
sigh that marked the passing of the storm, and 
pressed her cheek against Alice’s. “ I am so thankful 
you are here,” she said. “Uncle Peter will not let 
any of my girl friends who are with the other side 
enter the house since we came back, not even Nellie 
Musgrove, so I can’t have her here for the wedding, 
though Julia carries notes between us.” 

“ It is cruel,” said Alice, hotly. 

“ It isn’t kind, but it’s what I’ve had to endure for 
two years, though it will be worse now, for Uncle 
Peter is so furious because the army had to leave 
Philadelphia. I am glad we are going over to Long 
Island where I can see you sometimes.” 

[3i7] 


Dalrymple 

“ Bess,” said Alice, earnestly, “ Maurice is so gener- 
ous and kind-hearted, and I know we can depend on 
him to get some word for you. I’ll write to him 
about it this very night.” 

“ It’s good of you, dear, but it’s more than a week 
since the battle now, and I’m getting discouraged. I 
have two or three friends who will let me know the 
minute they hear anything, and all I can do is just to 
keep on hoping. Uncle Peter can forbid my friends 
to come to the house, but as long as I have Julia I can 
get letters and messages.” Her tears had gone. Her 
cheeks were as bright as roses emerging from a heavy 
dew. She sat up straight and lifted her head with a 
characteristic motion. Alice seemed to be suddenly 
possessed with a new idea. 

“ Bess,” she said, “ I’m sure you’ll run off with him 
yet.” 

Elizabeth laughed. “You goose! Haven’t I run 
off once ? Of course I will as soon as I have the 
chance. I’d do it if for nothing else than to get even 
with Aunt Eliza for twitting me about it. You know 
I told you about that spoiled elopement of hers when 
she was a girl, and she never forgave me for finding 
out and daring to mention it to her. She has 
managed to make some allusion to it every day 
since, and intimates that poor Bobert is a desperate 
character.” 


[3i8] 


With Our Army 

“ What an old hyena she is ! Bess, if I ever can do 
anything for you I’ll be only too glad. If she were 
my ” 

“ Come in, aunt,” called Elizabeth, sweetly, to the 
figure that appeared in the doorway. “We were just 
speaking of you. Now, isn’t that embroidery really 
as good as yours ? ” She lifted the dainty chemise 
and held it before her aunt’s eyes with an air of chal- 
lenge. Mrs. Fitzmorris examined it closely, with a 
critical air. 

“ You have certainly improved, my dear. This leaf 
is a little rough, and the vine seems a trifle out of 
proportion, but you have done quite well.” 

“ I’m so glad the lovely set you gave me was saved,” 
said Alice. “ I haven’t anything prettier.” 

“ Aunt Eliza’s embroidery is something too perfect 
for any use,” said Elizabeth. “ Bemember you are to 
give me a set just like Alice’s when I am married.” 
Mrs. Fitzmorris looked suspiciously at her niece, but 
Elizabeth met her gaze with an engaging frankness 
which for once disarmed the elder lady, and she made 
no reply to her, but turning to Alice said, signifi- 
cantly: “I’m very glad that your wedding wasn’t 
postponed, my dear. It’s such bad luck.” Having 
made her stab she departed. 

“ I think I’ll make auntie a set done in poison ivy,” 
said Elizabeth. 


[319] 


Dalrymple 

The ten days before the wedding sped quickly. 
Barrington had not been in town at all, and arrived 
to make an early morning call on the day of the cere- 
mony, which was set for high noon. Early as he was 
he had a companion, Paul Elliott, who after inform- 
ing Peter that his father could not come, asked for 
Elizabeth, and while Barrington had a last lover’s in- 
terview with Alice, Paul and Elizabeth went out into 
the garden. 

“ Bess,” said the boy, abruptly, “ I’m here virtually 
under false colors, and I wouldn’t be here at all if it 
were not for the sake of seeing you once more.” He 
stopped. On his brow great drops of perspiration 
showed his agitation. 

“ Of seeing me once more ! ” repeated Elizabeth, 
surprised. “ What do you mean, Paul ? ” 

“ Bess,” he replied, “ I will tell you only on your 
solemn promise that you will keep it secret. It is as 
much to your interest as mine, but you are not to tell 
a word of it, not even to Alice.” 

“Paul, I promise,” she cried, catching his hand. 
“ Oh, do not keep me waiting ; what is it ? ” 

“ This — to-morrow I shall be a private in the Conti- 
nental army. My father has disinherited me and 
ordered me from the house. Here in my pocket I 
have his letter to Peter, telling him all, but I shall 
not give it to him until after the ceremony. The gov- 
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With Our Army 

ernor has taken it very hard, and I’m sorry, but I 
can’t help it.” 

“ Paul, oh, Paul ! With the army — our army ! ” 

“Yes, our army; I’m with them, heart and soul. 
I’d have gone long ago, but dad and I like each other, 
and I wouldn’t break away till I really couldn’t stand 
it any longer. We had a time of it last evening, and 
had it all out. The old man’s done with me. God 
knows when I’ll see him again.” 

He had turned very pale; his boyish face was 
drawn, and his eyes saw through a mist. The reflex 
action of excitement and the exhaustion following a 
sleepless night had caught him at the lowest point of 
resistance, and he looked as if he were about to swoon. 
Elizabeth was alarmed. 

“ Paul ! ” she cried. “ Oh, how white you are ! You 
must have a cup of coffee at once.” She started to 
rise, but he pulled her down. 

“ I’m all right. Stay here with me. This is the only 
chance we’ll have to talk. I hate the gabble there’ll be 
after awhile, and I came early on purpose to see you 
alone. I was in the saddle most of the night, as I 
couldn’t sleep, but I’ll be all right when I’ve braced up 
for the show at noon. But guess the rest of the news, 
Bess. You haven’t begun to be interested yet.” 

She caught her breath sharply. “ Do you 

mean ? ” She could not finish. 

[321] 


Dalrymple 

“ I shall be a private in Company K, Captain Dal- 
rymple, of Colonel Tallmadge’s regiment, stationed at 
— Bess, for heaven’s sake, don’t faint here ! Good 
Lord ! ” He gripped her hands until she cried out 
with the pain, and then she moaned a little, but it was 
a moan of relief. 

“ Oh, he is alive ! ” 

“Yes, alive and well. Hot a thing the matter with 
him. Distinguished himself at the battle, and got his 
Captain’s commission at once, thanks to the Chief, 
who took the matter up personally. I think it’s been 
pending ever since the battle of Long Island, but any- 
way he asked for active field service and was assigned 
to Tallmadge’s infantry, a new regiment of enlisted 
men, chiefly from Hew York, and they’re in camp 
over at Hew Brunswick at present, but the whole 
army is moving, and I received word yesterda} 7 " that 
it is the intention of General "Washington to go into 
camp at White Plains. When I leave the house to- 
day I shall go direct to the troops. Had you heard 
nothing ? ” 

“ Hot a word. Even Alice heard nothing through 
Captain Barrington.” 

“ Oh, he’s had other matters on his mind. But I 
haven’t told you everything yet.” 

“ I’m prepared for anything now.” 

“Well, I’m sure you can stand this, for it’s only 
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secondary. Colonel Rutherford was wounded, pretty 
badly, and he’s been laid up ever since. A day or 
two ago I heard that he was being cared for at the 
house of some of his friends over on Long Island. 
He may be your nearest neighbor when you move.” 

“ Oh, will I never see the last of that man. I’m 
sorry if he’s hurt, but I cannot endure the thought of 
seeing him again.” 

“ Very likely you won’t. Hope for the best. He 
may recover and be gone by the time you get over.” 

“I hope so. But, Paul, now you will be with 
Robert, and you can take him a letter from me. Oh, 
I must go right away.” 

“ Bess, of course I’ll take any letter or message, or 
both. But what’s the use of dilly-dallying any 
longer? You’ve got to take about so many chances 
anyway, and there isn’t the slightest shadow of a 
possibility that your people will ever give in about 
him, and, honestly, I think a plan will have to be 
fixed up, and you’ll just have to take them all by sur- 
prise. You wouldn’t mind running off, would you ? ” 

“ Oh, joy ! Do you think it could be managed ? ” 

“ I’m sure of it. I know every inch of ground on 
Long Island, and I can help you out now. It would 
be an easy matter to cross over from Jersey some 
night with a party, make a quick dash and be off.” 

“ Paul, how delightful ! But no accident this time.” 

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Dalrymple 

“ Ho ; we’ll fix that. After all that’s happened to 
you and Eobert I think you deserve a run of luck. 
And it will serve the others right, too.” 

“Oh, won’t Aunt Eliza have conniptions! And 
Uncle Peter ! How he will swear ! ” 

“It will be worth hearing. How, listen, Bess.” 
He gave her a rapid outline of the general plan that 
would be followed, everything of the details to de- 
pend on future developments and the exigencies of 
the moment, cautioning her on no account to give the 
slightest hint to Alice or to Julia, but merely to be 
prepared to do exactly as she was told in a letter that 
would reach her from Eobert later. 

“ I will do all — all ! Oh, Paul, I don’t know 
whether I’m good any more or not, but I just want 
to get away. Oh, it will be heavenly to be free. I’m 
so tired of being watched all the time.” 

“ Well, Bess, I’ve got to go this minute and get into 
some other clothes.” 

“ Yes, and I must fly ! I’m Alice’s only bridesmaid, 
you know, and I have a lot of blue ribbon knots to 
make yet.” 

“ Imagine if Barrington knew, or Peter ! Whew ! 
I must get out of the house before Peter reads the 
governor’s letter. Write and tell me about it.” 

Elizabeth flew up to her room. It was growing 
late in the morning, and Mrs. Fitzmorris and Mrs. 

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With Our Army 

Hardy were inquiring as to her absence. Her glow- 
ing cheeks and brilliant eyes made both women look 
at her in amazement. 

“ There is something strange about it,” Mrs. Fitz- 
morris confided to her relative, in her dressing-room. 
“ She was down in the garden with Paul for over an 
hour, and she looks excited.” 

“Oh, they were talking about something,” said 
Mrs. Hardy, indifferently. 

“Amanda, you talk like a fool. Of course they 
were talking about something. I’d like to know what 
it was.” 

“ Ask her.” 

“She isn’t like she used to be. Elizabeth never 
could hide anything from me until lately, but she’s 
changed, and the strange part of it is I have never 
been able to catch her in a falsehood.” 

“ Give her time, Eliza. I must say she is different 
since she has been so much under your tutelage.” 

“If she had not been spoiled I might have done 
something with her. Between you and Peter the 
girl’s prospects have been ruined.” 

“ I left it all to Peter, and he told me that you in- 
terfered with him a good deal. Jane, don’t lace me 
any tighter.” 

In Elizabeth’s room the two girls were in each 

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Dalrymple 

other’s arms for a brief and excited conference. Bar- 
rington had brought word of Rutherford’s wound and 
of Robert’s safety, and this time it was Alice who 
almost wept from joy at the good news brought to 
her friend. Elizabeth, quivering in every nerve, with 
excitement, yet with a hidden ecstasy, calmed Alice 
and bade her return to her room and prepare for the 
final coming of the bridegroom. They separated, 
and Elizabeth snatched the next few minutes to write 
to Robert, while Julia impatiently waited in the next 
room, lost in astonishment at her mistress’s actions. 
Never was a girl dressed more quickly than was 
Elizabeth that morning, yet as she stood before the 
glass and surveyed herself, when Julia had given the 
final touches, she knew that she had never looked bet- 
ter. Her heart was beating against the letter which 
she would give to Paul, and a brief pang shot through 

her Oh, why was he not there to see her ! 

She was dressed in white, his favorite, and a garland 
of pale pink roses rested in a coronal on her dark 
hair ; her great gray eyes glowed with her suppressed 
emotion, and lips and brow defined a face of melting 
womanly tenderness. Ah, so would she look some 
day for him ! The vision of her thoughts over- 
whelmed her and she drew back, from her own re- 
flection, as a wave of crimson dyed her so deeply that 
it showed under the thin bodice that veiled her neck 
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With Our Army 

and shoulders. Already she had been called twice to 
come to Alice, but she dared not go while such 
emotion surged through her. Panting for breath she 
leaned against a chair, caught in a flood that shook 
her from head to foot. To be a bride ! To be his 
wife ! At last the meaning rushed over her. While 
she stood thus, knowing that she had scarcely a mo- 
ment of time left for her privacy, her eye fell on the 
little vellum Testament on her bureau, and the gilt 
crucifix stood out in a ray of sunlight that fell across 
it. With a deep indrawing of her breath that was 
like a sob she fell on her knees by her bed and bury- 
ing her face in the white coverings she prayed in pas- 
sionate pleadings that poured from every throb of her 
heart. 

When she rose the excess of color had ebbed from 
her face, and a soft, gentle expression had settled on 
her features. With a sweet, virginal calmness she 
preceded Alice to the flower decked altar in the 
drawing-room and heard the words of the marriage 
service as though in a dream. Alice was pale but 
self-possessed, and the pair made a handsome couple 
as they stood before the Bishop. The best man was 
a total stranger to Elizabeth, a Captain in his regi- 
ment, and both the groom and his attendant were in 
uniform, at Alice’s especial request. 

The breakfast was very gay, Elizabeth did not 
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know many of the guests, and the diversion of the 
hour was more complete than it would otherwise have 
been. When the bride’s cake was cut she drew the 
ring, and the merry jest went around : “ You will be 
the next bride ! ” They lifted their glasses to her, 
and she caught Paul’s eyes fixed on her with deep 
meaning as he drank his toast. 

The company gathered in the wide hall to speed 
the young couple with rice and old shoes, and Alice, 
descending the stairway in her traveling gown, gave 
a warm parting embrace to Elizabeth. “ I’ll see you 
soon,” she said. “ Good-bye, dear.” 

Paul, standing by Elizabeth, affected to weep, and 
when the girls separated he boldly put his arm about 
the maid of honor and gave her a resounding kiss full 
on the lips. An uproar of mirth greeted his daring, 
but while he rubbed his ears where Elizabeth boxed 
him soundly, he said under cover of the laughter: 
“I have the right to, Bess. You know I had a 
narrow escape from having you for my stepmother.” 

Half an hour later the storm broke. The bride and 
groom and the guests were gone, and Peter had read 
’Squire Elliott’s letter. Nothing else was talked of 
for the rest of the day. Elizabeth had fled to her 
room. With Alice gone she was utterly disconsolate 
for a companion. Peter had broken out in a fit of 
rage when the truth dawned upon him, and he had 
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With Our Army 

bitterly denounced Paul and expressed a wish that he 
had known it earlier so that he might have had him 
taken into custody. Mrs. Fitzmorris was in a fury, 
but gave another interpretation to the matter. 

“I knew there was something the matter this 
morning when she stayed with him so long in the 
garden. I think there’s a love affair between them.” 

“ Eliza, have you lost your senses ? ” inquired Peter. 
“ Didn’t you see him kiss her before everybody ? If 
he were in love with her do you think he would do 
that ? ” 

“ There is something between them,” insisted Mrs. 
Fitzmorris. “Mark my words, there is something 
that is hidden.” 

“ Hidden ! They both have enough to hide. A 
couple of renegades. The devil take it, there’s 
treason in every household.” 

Elizabeth kept her room and let the excitement 
rage. She had half expected to be called down and 
questioned, but greatly to her joy she was left undis- 
turbed. Julia brought her supper up to her and 
reported that she was not asked for. Elizabeth 
marveled, but she was so thankful to be left in peace 
that she dismissed it from her mind, and gave herself 
up to dreams of the future. Long she sat by her 
window and watched the gorgeous sunset, and then, 
languid with the excitement of the day, she fell 

[329] 


Dalrymple 

asleep. A few days later they left for Flatbush, 
under an escort and traveling cautiously under per- 
mits within the lines. The entire household went 
over, save Mrs. Hardy, who remained behind to care 
for the house with several servants. Ho one had 
mentioned Paul’s name to Elizabeth since the day of 
the wedding, but there was a strange coldness in the 
manner of both Peter and Mrs. Fitzmorris, and she 
was made to feel that she was under the ban. They 
had been established on Long Island less than a week 
when she learned that Rutherford was in the neigh- 
borhood, slowly convalescing from his wounds, and 
that Robert’s family were with friends, about ten 
miles out in the country. 


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CHAPTER XXVI 
Drive On ! 


W ITH their change of residence life began 
to run more smoothly. The British were 
quartered in almost every fine residence in 
Flatbush that had formerly been occupied by their 
rebel owners, and the beautiful country estates saw a 
round of social gayeties in unbroken succession. 
Week-end parties were the rule, and the uninvited 
temporary proprietors dispensed a lavish hospitality 
after the fashion of merry England that was deeply 
gratifying to themselves and their guests, and despite 
the fact that they saw their own fleet blockaded in 
New York harbor they ignored it so far as daily en- 
joyment was concerned. 

“ ’Tis a plague,” said Peter, “ to think of that 
rabble Congress sitting in Philadelphia, and a French 
fleet anchored at the mouth of the Delaware, but as 
long as we hold New York and Staten and Long 
Islands we have the key to the situation.” 

“ Yes, practically,” assented Barrington, “but there 
are many of the Continental families left in all of these 
places, enough to give us some trouble perhaps.” 

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Dalrymple 

Peter gave him a searching look. “ I notice that in 
speaking of the rebels you frequently use the name 
they have chosen themselves.” 

“ My dear sir,” said Barrington, “ most of the 
officers have fallen into that habit. You see they 
have been recognized in several foreign courts.” 

Peter growled deeply in his throat. “ They’re 
rebels to me to the end of the game,” he said. 

Alice and Elizabeth were together almost con- 
stantly; they rode, drove, and visited at the same 
houses and all but monopolized the attentions of the 
leading officers, Alice being feted as a bride, and 
Elizabeth as the most beautiful and attractive girl in 
the little colony. Mrs. Fitzmorris and Mrs. Thornton 
were in their element, and Peter, as the host of his own 
dinners and week-end parties, recovered his old bland 
and genial manner and was once more the delightful 
Peter of old. It was speedily known to all the house- 
hold that Rutherford was convalescing at the elegant 
mansion of the Axtells, one of the most extensive and 
beautiful estates on Long Island, the house one of the 
large and stately country houses of the day, richly 
furnished and equipped with an unusually large 
retinue of servants, while the spacious grounds were 
carefully laid out and cultivated in lawns, gardens 
and walks. Mrs. Axtell drove over to call on Mrs. 
Fitzmorris and Mrs. Thornton, and the three women 
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had an extended conference. Elizabeth was out on 
horseback with Alice, and when she returned was 
given Mrs. Axtell’s compliments without comment, 
but at the supper table that same evening Mrs. Fitz- 
morris significantly remarked that Colonel Butherford 
was rapidly improving, and that as soon as he was 
well enough Mrs. Axtell was to give a lawn fete, 
which they were all expected to attend. As usual 
several guests were present, and in the interchange 
of sympathetic interest in the popular officer’s 
health the silence of Elizabeth passed apparently 
unnoticed. 

But the whole story of the episode on the field at 
Monmouth was public property. Butherford himself 
had told it, had openly complimented Bobert to many, 
and had frankly stated that he owed his life to him. 
The more delicate personal point involved he confided 
privately to Peter and one or two others, including 
his hostess, and avowed his determination to resign 
his commission and return to England as soon as he 
should be able. On the morning after Mrs. Axtell’s 
call Peter rode over to see him, and was gone most 
of the day. When he came in he seemed dejected 
and had a long talk with Mrs. Fitzmorris, but neither 
one mentioned the subject to Elizabeth. To all out- 
ward appearance the matter was tabooed, but though 
Peter’s manner to the girl was gentle and affectionate 
[ 333 ] 


Dalrymple 

again he seemed to be brooding, and Mrs. Fitz- 
m orris, thoroughly outraged at the unexpected turn of 
affairs, lost no opportunity to hurt Elizabeth in every 
possible way. The course of the social round brought 
her face to face with various commenting hints, some 
congratulatory, several envious. Everywhere she 
went she was pointed out as the heroine of the most 
romantic episode of any girl on the island, and young 
subalterns vied with one another in lavish attentions. 
A meeting with Rutherford came unexpectedly. She 
was riding with Alice one morning when a turn in 
the road brought them sharply up against the Axtell 
carriage. Rutherford was sitting upright among a 
pile of cushions, his hostess by his side, and though 
very pale he was beginning to recover his former 
looks and bearing. Mrs. Axtell called to the coach- 
man to halt, and the entire party stopped. 

Rutherford took off his hat and greeted the girls 
with perfect self-possession, and Alice promptly of- 
fered sincere congratulations on his improvement. 
Despite all that had happened Elizabeth felt a throb 
of pity for him, and the knowledge that he had so 
generously renounced her filled her with a glow of 
admiration far beyond any sentiment she had ever felt 
for him during all his pursuit. Her eyes softened 
and met his with frank and tender sweetness, as she 
held out her hand and said : 

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“ Colonel Rutherford, it gives me great pleasure to 
ee that you are able to be out again.” 

Only Rutherford knew what it cost him not to press 
her hand in the old way, but he restrained himself with 
a new sense of self-control in which he had lately 
schooled himself, and said : “ Thank you, Miss Wind- 
ham. I am very happy to be about once more. I 
had the good fortune to escape a close call.” He 
looked her squarely in the eyes, and Elizabeth felt a 
warm wave sweep over her, but before she could 
speak Mrs. Axtell said : 

“We are going to take very good care of him and 
keep him with us. I hope you have no other engage- 
ment for the night of my fete next week. I shall 
count on you confidently.” 

“ Alice,” said Elizabeth, as the girls rode on, “ how 
glad I am we met him. I had almost dreaded it, but 
it makes me happy to know that he has acknowledged 
Robert’s goodness. It is noble of him.” 

“ Colonel Rutherford is a gentleman,” replied Alice. 
“ He told Maurice that he could never repay his debt 
to Robert and that he would never trouble you again.” 

As the carriage rolled off, Mrs. Axtell said : “ Colo- 
nel, I don’t blame you for falling in love with her. 
She is a lovely girl, but you are foolish to give her up. 
Gratitude is next door to love, and you can win her 
now.” 


[ 335 ] 


Dalrymple 

“ My dear madam,” replied Eutherford, “ the grati- 
tude which Miss Windham feels towards me is but the 
natural rebound of a heart that has chosen its own 
mate and will have no other. She has taught me 
what love is, and I have given her up because I know 
now what it means myself. It is fate, and I must ac- 
cept it.” 

Mrs. Axtell flushed a little. “ What ! ” she laughed, 
“ has the most dashing officer in the service turned 
philosopher ! Or is this the courage of despair ? ” 

“ A little of both perhaps,” said Eutherford, grimly. 
“ I need more than the consolations of religion.” 

Two days later Peter had his hopes dashed. Mrs. 
Fitzmorris, opening a letter from Mrs. Hardy in the 
breakfast room, read to herself until suddenty she be- 
came amused and laughed with evident enjoyment. 

“ Tell us the good news, Eliza, and let us smile with 
you,” said Peter. 

“ With pleasure,” replied Mrs. Fitzmorris. “ I’m 
sure you’ll enjoy it, Peter; listen to this: ‘Mrs. 
Earle was married yesterday to Dudley Leigh, and 
they have gone to housekeeping at once, in the most 
approved Darby and Joan manner. I am quite cer- 
tain that Peter had sampled her cooking on several 
occasions, though he never would admit it. Break the 
news to him gently, as I fear he will grieve over his 
lost little dinner parties a deux.’ I hate to be abrupt, 

[336] 


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Peter, but you know you insisted.” Her relish was 
keen. It was the sort of thing that was meat and 
drink to her. 

Peter met the issue squarely. He had long since 
known that the liking he had cherished for the buxom 
little widow was useless, but though he had persuaded 
himself that he was steeled against the news, he got a 
little shock. But Eliza Fitzmorris was not given the 
satisfaction of seeing him wince. He went down with 
flying colors. 

“ Mrs. Earle, ah — Mrs. Leigh, is really quite the 
best cook I ever knew. Amanda forgets that I have 
praised her repeatedly. Beally, she can prepare a 
squab in the most perfect manner. I knew some time 
since that she was to marry Mr. Leigh. From what 
I know of him I believe she has made an excellent 
choice.” 

Mrs. Fitzmorris nearly fainted. Elizabeth, so de- 
lighted that she was on the point of shouting, col- 
lected herself with difficulty, and said : “ She’s an 
awfully nice little woman. Everybody likes her. 
Half a dozen men from Captain Barrington’s com- 
pany boarded with her last winter, and he told me 
she was immensely popular with all of them, and that 
they adored her cooking. She must have served some 
of the squabs to Uncle Peter that they gave her some- 
times as a token of their appreciation.” 

[ 337 ] 


Dalrymple 

Peter had never felt more grateful in his life. Eliza 
was duly routed, and he was overjoyed to see her sit 
in helpless silence, but he was puzzled to know how 
Elizabeth could have hit on the solution of the squabs, 
and after breakfast he asked her point blank. 

“ Oh, Uncle Peter,” she said, bubbling and dimp- 
ling, “ don’t you know I’m a spy, a real spy ? ” 

The witchery of her mirth infected Peter. His own 
mercurial spirits rose with a bound. “ You’re not the 
real thing,” he said. “ I gave her some of those 
squabs myself.” 

“I dare you to tell Aunt Eliza,” said Elizabeth. 
Then she threw both arms about his neck, kissed him 
heartily, and saying : “ Oh, you dear uncle ! ” ran 
from the room. Peter walked to the window and 
stood looking out on the broad terraced lawn for 
some minutes. A servant came up and said : “ Let- 

ters for you, sir,” and he took them without turning 
around. And then, directly on the address of the top- 
most letter, there fell two great tears, for Peter Simp- 
son’s affectionate heart was sorely torn within him. 
He was bitterly disappointed at Rutherford’s change 
of position, and his pride and intense devotion to the 
British cause forbade him to consent to Elizabeth’s 
marriage with Robert. Still, the situation seemed no 
longer to be within his firm grasp. Rutherford had 
advised him to consent to the match, and Mrs. Fitz- 
[ 338 ] 


Drive On! 


morris bitterly opposed it. He hated Robert and the 
cause he espoused, and he loved Elizabeth, and thus 
he vibrated between the devil and the deep sea. He 
sighed and opened the letters. 

As the days passed and no word came from Robert, 
Elizabeth’s tension increased. Then one morning she 
was surprised when she wakened to find Julia by 
her bed, closely watching her. As she opened her 
eyes the maid caught her hand and said, excitedly : 
“ Oh, Miss Bess, I done been waitin’ for yo’ to 
wake up fo’ an hour. That Adolph, over at ’Squire 
Yan Dusen’s, come over hyah at midnight las’ night, 
and tole me he got word to go an’ get a letter fo’ you 
dis evening, an’ dat it will have important word fo’ 
you.” 

“ A letter ! Julia ? Where is he to get it ? ” 

“ I doan know, Miss Bess. But I got to go away 
early dis afternoon to get it from him.” 

“ Julia, be very careful to-day. Keep out of the 
way of Mrs. Fitzmorris as much as possible, and be 
sure no one sees you when you leave the house. I 
know what kind of word will be in the letter, and you 
are to know later.” 

Elizabeth passed the day in a state of feverish ex- 
pectation. She locked the door of her room, thereby 
agitating Mrs. Fitzmorris, who was fond of coming in 
unannounced, and carefully inspected her wardrobe, 
[ 339 ] 


Dalrymple 

selecting a few garments which she removed to an- 
other closet. Alice arrived just as she had finished 
and said : 

“I see you’re going over your clothes too. I’ve 
just been through mine. I need a lot of new things. 
I haven’t yet replaced what I lost when we left Phil- 
adelphia. What are you going to wear to the fete ? 
The invitations are out for next Thursday.” 

“ I don’t know. It will depend on ” she 

paused. Her secret had nearly escaped her. 

“ On what ? Oh, the weather ! It will be too bad 
if it rains, but if it does Mrs. Axtell has arranged to 
have everything removed indoors and have tableaux 
instead, so it really won’t make any difference. Wear 
white, Bess. You look your best in that.” 

“ I think I will.” She felt the color in her cheeks, 
and rising hastily said : “ Help me to decide, Alice. 
I’ll get them all out, and see which you like the 
best.” 

Half an hour later when Alice left the gown had 
been selected, and it was agreed that Elizabeth 
and Julia should call for Alice and her husband 
on their way to the Axtells’ and take them with 
her. 

“ I may not see you again before Thursday,” said 
Alice, “ unless you run over to-morrow, but you’ll be 
sure to call early that evening, won’t you ? ” 

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Drive On! 


“ I’m going to leave in good time,” said Elizabeth. 
“ I’ll be there promptly unless I am absolutely pre- 
vented, and it will take more than rain to keep me 
home.” 

Julia left on her errand about four in the afternoon, 
and from that time to ten in the evening when she re- 
turned Elizabeth was under the pressure of her own 
thoughts and the necessity of concealing the maid’s 
absence from being known. Early in the evening she 
escaped to her room under plea of a headache, saying 
that she wished to retire soon, and in the solitude of 
her apartment she gave herself up to conflicting emo- 
tions of hope, fear and anxiety that sent her pacing 
restlessly up and down the room. At last, sinking by 
the window, she leaned far out and inhaled the sweet 
night air in deep draughts that brought some tran- 
quillity to her. Within the room there was only a 
faint, subdued light from two carefully shaded wax 
tapers on the bureau, and without was the still, dark 
fragrance of a midsummer’s night. Pungent earth 
odors rose to her nostrils, and the glow of fireflies 
and the singing of katydids fell on her senses with 
familiar and quieting insistence. Insensibly the 
turmoil of her mind was calmed, and a peace crept 
over her, as a mysterious telepathy whispered that 
all would be well. Fully relaxed in the inward 
grateful assurance, she fell into a deep reverie, 
[34i] 


Dalrymple 

and the wings of her imagination had taken such 
flight that she did not hear Julia enter and approach 
her. 

She sprang up quickly, took the letter and flew to 
the candles, the dear handwriting filling her with 
passionate joy, but when she had broken the seal her 
excitement was so great that the words danced before 
her at first so that she could scarcely read the mes- 
sage. It was short and definite. She was to meet 
Kobert on the next Thursday evening at the old 
abandoned church a mile from the highway on the 
road to New Utrecht. He would be there with Tall- 
madge, Paul Elliott and an escort of picked men. 
“Take the wood road and get there as soon after 
eight o’clock as possible. Let nothing stop you, as 
every detail has been carefully arranged, and I may 
not be able to get over from the Jersey shore again 
for some time.” 

“ Ah, my intuition was right,” she said, aloud. “ I 
felt that it would be set for Thursday evening. So 
much the better. Julia,” to the gaping girl, “ I’m go- 
ing to tell you what you are to do, and if you fail me 
I’ll have you shot.” 

But Julia did not need the threat. At midnight 
she left her mistress, and the garments which Eliza- 
beth had chosen were conveniently packed. Nothing 
of especial interest happened before Thursday. Eliza- 
[ 342 ] 


Drive On ! 


beth purposely avoided seeing Alice, and devoted her- 
self to a prudent demeanor before Mrs. Fitzmorris. 
With Peter she was more than usually affectionate? 
and he was more like his old self than he had been for 
months. Thursday dawned in a turquoise vault, with- 
out a hint of rain. Late in the afternoon Elizabeth 
wrote a brief note to Peter, and the last loving words 
in it were blotted with her tears. She dried them as 
she wrote the postscript : “ Give my love to Aunt 
Eliza, and tell her I shall expect her to send me that 
set.” 

“ This isn’t the kind of dress I ought to wear, 
Julia,” she said, as that faithful tiring maid robed her 
that evening, “ but I can scarcely wear a riding habit 
to a lawn fete. It might attract attention. People 
are so foolish. I can finish dressing myself after you 
fasten my bodice. Go down-stairs and let me know 
when Uncle Peter leaves the library so that I can 
leave the note for him.” 

Not the slightest suspicion attached to her depar- 
ture. It was not yet dusk. The coachman was Sam, 
an old retainer of Mrs. Fitzmorris’ Philadelphia 
servants, and that lady’s last words to Elizabeth 
were: “Tell them that we’ll be there within the 
hour.” 

“All right, auntie. We won’t wait for you, shall 
we?” 


[ 343 ] 


Dalry??jple 

“Wait! Of course not. Wliat in the world do 
you want to wait for ? ” 

“ Oh, 1 don’t want to particularly, but I thought 
perhaps you might miss something if you didn’t come 
early.” 

“ Not that I know of. The fireworks are not to be 
set off till late.” 

Peter accompanied her to the coach, and Elizabeth 
would have given him a parting salute if she had 
dared. When they were safely out of the grounds 
she settled herself comfortably. “ The fireworks will 
be set off so much earlier than auntie thinks, won’t 
they, Julia ? ” 

Sam’s astonishment verged on revolt when he was 
ordered to turn off of the main road and take the 
wood road instead. In bewildered amazement the 
darky protested that they could not reach the Bar- 
ringtons’ that way, and Elizabeth was compelled to 
cut off his expostulations sharply. With a final 
grumbled protest the bewildered negro whipped up 
the horses, and they started off briskly. They now 
had less than a mile to go, and Elizabeth, relapsing 
into a keen anxiety concerning Sam’s unwilling 
obedience and fearful that she might not be able to 
get him to go the rest of the way, signed to Julia to 
keep up a stream of small talk with her to allay his 
suspicions. As they came in sight of the ruins of the 
[ 344 ] 


Drive On! 


old church — it had been burned early in the Bevolu- 
tion — Sam’s rebellion became complete, and turning 
on his seat he flatly refused to go a step further. 

“ Drive on ! ” cried Elizabeth, imperiously. They 
were less than a quarter of a mile away, and she was 
quivering with excitement. 

“ ’Deed, Miss Bess, I doan go no further on dis yere 
road. Dere’s something up, an’ I’se gwine drive yo’ 
straight back to Miss Eliza.” He had reined in the 
horses, and they were standing in the middle of the 
road, but as he made a motion to turn the carriage 
Elizabeth picked up her skirts, stepped over the seat 
and taking the reins touched the team with the whip 
and they flew forward. 

The darky cried out angrily and attempted to 
snatch the ribbons, but before he could do so Julia 
grasped him about the neck with two strong arras 
and dragged him, choking, backward. With his 
heels in the air and his eyes protruding from the 
tight grip on his windpipe, he gave vent to half 
inarticulate imprecations and threats, mingled with 
appeals for air. His cries were in vain. “ You good 
fo’ nothing nigger ! ” cried Julia, “ I reckon you doan 
play no mo’ tricks on me. You ’member you tell 
Pete the other day that you could be my sweetheart 
ef yo’ wanted to ! That Adolph’ll brek every bone 
in yo’ carcass yet fo’ dat.” She shook him. Sam 
[ 345 ] 


Dalrymple 

was not comfortable. His head was jammed be- 
tween his shoulders, and his right leg was elevated 
above his left. Also, Julia was unkind. Chloe was 
really better looking. He tried to shriek. Elizabeth 
whipped up the horses. Sam got lower down in the 
coach, then, twisting and squirming, he partially re- 
leased himself, and was reaching for Julia with any- 
thing but pacific intent. Too late. They had 
reached the church. A bevy of men swarmed out of 
the blackness of the shadows and a stern voice cried : 
“Halt!” 

“ Robert ! ” shrieked Elizabeth. 

“ Hello ! ” cried Tallmadge’s cheery voice. “ What 
have you got here ? ” He lifted Sam bodily from the 
coach, and handed him over to two men. Robert was 
assisting Elizabeth to alight, when a warm hand 
grasped hers. 

“ Bess ! ” cried a familiar voice. “ Good for you. I 
knew you’d get here ! ” 

“Paul! You here ! ” 

“ Of course. What did I tell you ? ” 

“Bess,” said Robert. “Thank heaven! Are you 
hurt ? ” 

“Ho; Sam got obstreperous, that’s all. Julia took 
care of him.” 

“ Well, we’ll take care of both of you now. What 
have you done with him, Ben ? ” 

[346] 


Drive On ! 


“ He’s ahead, under guard, gagged and bound. 
Get in there, Eob, and be quick about it. Paul will 
drive to New Utrecht.” 

Eobert got into the coach, with Elizabeth by his 
side. Julia sat opposite. 


[ 347 ] 


CHAPTER XXVII 

It Was Worth It 



OU’T lose a minute,” said Tallmadge. 
“ ¥e must be off instantly.” 


“ All right, Colonel,” replied Robert, 
“ you are in command of this expedition, and we hold 
you responsible. Go ahead.” 

“ Close in ! Forward, march ! ” Came the firm 
command. “ Silence in the ranks.” 

“That doesn’t mean us,” said Robert. “We’re all 
right now.” 

The small cavalcade moved off at a brisk pace. 
The unhappy Sam was ahead. Tallmadge rode just 
behind attended by a lieutenant and three men.' The 
others followed in the rear. Under Tallmadge’s 
directions the horses were urged almost to a gallop 
for half a mile or so, and then they turned into the 
old and almost unused road, which, being rougher 
than the other, compelled a slower gait. 

“ This way is about a mile longer,” said Robert, 
“but we are taking it for safety. Bess, heavens! 
but you look sweet to-night ! ” 

“ Don’t, Rob. Julia will see you.” 


[ 348 ] 


It Was Worth It 


“ She was looking the other way, besides she might 
as well get used to it. I don’t care who sees me.” 
He took another one, and this time Julia’s observa- 
tion was evident. “ You don’t have to fall out on that 
side, Julia. There’s just as much room on the other.” 

“ Fo’ Gawd, Marse Robert, I’se so glad I reckon I 
could fall out of both sides at once. You an’ Miss 
Bess needn’t mind me no more’n ef I was a dead 
’possum.” 

“ I think you’re something of a ’possum, Julia, but 
I’m sure you’re not a dead one. If you should hap- 
pen to see me kissing anybody you might learn some- 
thing for Adolph’s benefit.” 

In the clear half light the girl’s white teeth gleamed 
and her eyes rolled as she said in her most melodious 
tones : “ ’Deed, Marse Robert, that Adolph done 

know how to do his own kissing long ago, an’ he learn 
me mighty well. But I reckon I might as well tell 
you now as any time, that nigger gwine to come after 
me jus’ as soon as he can get away, an’ I reckon you 
an’ Miss Bess need a coachman.” 

The peals of laughter that came from the carriage 
caused Tallmadge to look around. “ Upon my soul ! ” 
gasped Robert, when he could speak. “Bess, have 
you worked up this scheme ? ” 

“Ho; but I’m willing to abet it. Oh, Julia, how 
can I ever trust you again ! ” 

[ 349 ] 


D alrymple 

“ She’s had a fine example in you. We’ll manage to 
find something for Adolph, Julia, though we may not 
set up a carriage at once. Do you care, Bess ? ” 

“ How could I care for that ! Anything will do for 
us, so we are together. Kobert, tell me how you got 
here. I’m dying to know.” 

“It’s too long to tell just now. We crossed in a 
boat with muffled oars, and it’s easy to get in between 
pickets if you know how, and Paul’s services were in- 
valuable. Sometimes it isn’t so easy to get out again. 
I hope nothing will happen, but if it does I don’t want 
you to be frightened. We have eleven men, enough 
to cover an escape. I don’t think we’ll be caught be- 
fore we get to Hew Utrecht, and it’s only three miles 
to the ferry.” 

“ I never felt so safe in my life. How are we to 
get to the ferry ? ” 

“On horseback. The horses are waiting for us. 
We will make Peter a present of his carriage and 
pair. I must say they go handsomely. By the way, 
do you know who is leading my horse in the rear ?” 

“ I have not the slightest idea.” 

“His name is Yawter. He is the young fellow 
who brought you my letter from the Jersey on that 
Christmas Eve. Do you remember ? ” 

She gave a little cry, and did not answer him in 
words. In the fast-gathering darkness he drew her 
[ 350 ] 


It Was Worth It 


close to him, so close that he felt her heart beating 
against his breast, and they swung into depths of 
happiness together. They were traveling at a rattling 
pace now, for the road was more open, and the rum- 
bling of the wheels and the steady rhythm of the 
horses’ hoofs as they trotted before and after them, 
alone broke the stillness. At last fortune was smiling 
on them, and even the danger of the hour exhilarated 
both of them as their hearts strained towards their 
mutual desire. The stars were out, and the warm 
summer night was so clear that it was not dark, and 
every object could be plainly discerned. The soft 
thud of the hoofs in the damp grass by the roadside 
was like music to Eobert. He held Elizabeth yet 
closer to him and buried his face in her neck. “ They 
cannot go fast enough,” he whispered, passionately. 

For reply she laid her lips on his, and they kept 
silence again for awhile, and then Elizabeth drew 
gently away and said : “ Tell me, dear, at whose 
house will we be, and who are to be there? You see, 
I know nothing.” 

“Oh, they’re mere details, of no particular im- 
portance, at least nothing except that my mother will 
be there, and my little sister, Belle. She has been 
coached for the event, and you are to have a brides- 
maid. She’s just five years old, and as pretty as a 
peach. Mother brought her because she didn’t want 
[35i] 


Dalrymple 

to leave her behind. They have come over from 
Flatbush with an escort, and will go back in the 
morning. We will be at the house of old friends of 
ours, the Hollisters. The rector is there and every- 
thing in perfect readiness. There is to be absolutely 
no delay. We will be married within fifteen minutes 
after we enter the house, and we will leave immedi- 
ately after the ceremony and ride like the deuce to the 
ferry. Tallmadge will stand up with me. There 
isn’t a frill in sight, Bess. It’s just a plain case of 
getting spliced and making a quick run before we’re 
caught. We won’t be safe till we’re on the Jersey 
shore and within our lines.” 

“As you say, Rob. We can go the minute the 
minister says amen.” 

“ It’s about what we’ll do. He has instructions to 
boil the form down to a strictly necessary basis. For 
my part, I think if he says ‘ I pronounce you man and 
wife ’ it will be enough.” 

“I wouldn’t feel married with just that, but it 
would save some time for him to omit the obey.” 

“Not any, miss. That obey goes in if all the rest 
of the service is omitted. Your neck will soon be 
under the marriage yoke, Mrs. D ” 

She gave a warning cry, and laid her fingers on his 
lips. “ Don’t call me that — yet. Don’t you know it 
would bring bad luck ? ” 

[352] 


It Was Worth It 


He kissed the detaining fingers. “ You silly ! Are 
you as superstitious as Mrs. Fitzmorris ? ” 

“ Ah, what a shock for auntie ! Positively, I never 
expect her to speak to me again. And as for poor 
Uncle Peter, it will break his heart. Cousin Amanda 
will be properly horrified, but really she won’t care 
much. But Alice will be delighted. Dear Alice ! 
Rob, it was all I could do not to tell her.” 

“ It’s a good thing you didn’t. We will send her 
word at once.” 

Tallmadge rode alongside. “We are almost there,” 
he said. “ Have you anything in the way of luggage, 
Miss Windham ? ” 

“ Nothing but a small satchel under the seat. 
Julia smuggled it out before the horses were put in.” 

“ I will see that it is taken care of for you. Do 
you know that we made a quick trip ? It looks as if 
we shall get off all right. In case of any excitement, 
keep cool. I have three pickets between here and the 
ferry, and they will keep a sharp lookout and give 
warning in time.” 

He rode ahead again, and in a moment the little 
party came out of the narrow road into the open high- 
way, and not a quarter of a mile away their des- 
tination came into view, a big, rambling, comfortable 
country seat which had thus far remained in the 
possession of its owner. It had not been deemed 
[ 353 ] 


Dalrymple 

prudent to illuminate too brightly in honor of the 
event, but the lights that glowed brightly in the 
windows gave a cheerful and inviting aspect. Eliza- 
beth felt her heart beating rapidly now that the 
moment was at hand, and instinctively she pressed 
nearer to Eobert. He held her firmly for a moment, 
whispered a few words in her ear, the hoofs rang out 
more distinctly on the graveled walk, then stopped ; 
the carriage drew up by the long low veranda, and 
their ride was over. 

Afterwards it seemed to Elizabeth as if the remem- 
brance of the next few minutes was far more definite 
than the actual impression of the moment. She was 
in a strange place and saw new faces, and the tension 
of her mood did not at once adjust itself to immediate 
realization. She heard voices and words of welcome, 
and while a tall, white-haired man held out his hand 
and bade her accept the hospitality of his roof, she 
saw Eobert clasped in the arms of a sweet-faced 
woman, who kissed him and called him her dear son. 
A sprite of a child, whom she knew at once to be 
Eobert’s little sister, ran towards her, then stopped 
and surveyed her shyly, finger in mouth and golden- 
brown curls clustering about her head. The elderly 
gentleman presented his wife, and before her greeting 
was fairly uttered Eobert was saying : “ Elizabeth, 
this is my mother,” and the sweet-faced woman un- 
[ 354 ] 


It Was Worth It 


ceremoniously kissed her heartily, and said : “ My 

dear, Robert has told me all about you, and I am glad 
that you are so soon to be my daughter. Come in. 
We are all ready and waiting for you.” 

There was no delay. Elizabeth was permitted only 
a few minutes in a dressing-room, while Julia deftly 
rearranged her hair and shook out her skirts. “ ’Deed, 
Miss Bess, you ain’t never look so lovely in all yo’ bo’n 
days. I ’clar to goodness ef I ever know how sweet 
yo’ was befo’.” 

“ Elizabeth,” said Robert’s mother, caressing her 
gently, “ I cannot tell you how happy I am to-night. 
I have three sons, and Robert is the first to bring me 
another daughter.” 

“ Mother ! Mother ! I love you.” 

“ God bless you, my child.” 

“ Bess ! Hurry up ! ” The voice of the bridegroom- 
elect penetrated with nervous energy. 

They went out at once. The rector held the open 
book, and began to read the marriage service before 
they had fairly arranged themselves. The tiny brides- 
maid walked with a very important air, after the 
manner of children who innocently ape their elders, 
and Tallmadge supported Robert, standing near the 
window where he could keep an eye out. Julia stood 
in the parlor door, inwardly resolved to duplicate 
the gown of the bride on the occasion of her own 
[ 355 ] 


Dalrymple 

nuptials. The rector stolidly proceeded with the 
service. 

“ I, Robert, take thee, Elizabeth, to have and to 
hold ” 

“ To have and to hold ” 

“ To love, cherish, and protect ” 

“ To love, cherish, and protect ” 

“ In sickness and in health ” 

“ In sickness and in health ” 

“Until death us do part ” 

“ Until death us do part ” 

“I, Elizabeth, take thee, Robert ” 

“ To have and to hold ” 

“ In sickness and in health ” 

“ To love, honor and ” 

“ Colonel Tallmadge, we are attacked ! ” Paul dashed 
into the room and dashed out again. Tallmadge thrust 
the ring into Robert’s hand and was out of the door 
like lightning. Elizabeth started, but Robert held her 
hand. The rector was impassive. Julia screamed. 

“ Go on,” said Robert. 

“ To love, honor and obey ” 

“ To love, honor and obey ” 

“ Save the horses ! ” It was Tallmadge’s voice 
outside. 

“ They’re all right,” said Paul. 

Zip! A bullet crashed through the window and 
[ 356 ] 


It Was Worth It 


shattered a vase of flowers under the wax candles by 
the rector. Six men filed into the room and knelt by 
the windows, resting their muskets on the sill. The 
rattle of their reply echoed on the night air. A 
rataplan of hoofs smote the drive outside. Robert 
did not move, and Elizabeth could not. 

“ Until death us do part ” 

“Until death us do part ” 

“ I pronounce you man and ” 

Zip-p-p-p! The rector reached back of him and 
took up a musket, standing just behind him. The 
door was burst open and the leader of the attack, 
with drawn bayonet, and followed by several men, 
advanced towards Robert, who shouted : “ Get back, 
Bess ! ” The clergyman beat down the bayonet with 
the butt of his musket, and Robert grappled with the 
man, who fought with furious strength, but was 
finally overpowered. Three privates bore the others 
to the floor and disarmed them. 

“ You are my prisoner,” said Robert, to the 
leader. 

The sharp crack of the musket firing continued 
from the windows. Robert’s mother had taken Julia 
and two of the men up-stairs and caused candles to be 
lighted in every room and placed in the windows. 
She and Julia then loaded the muskets, and the men, 
going from room to room, and firing rapidly from the 
[ 357 ] 


Dalrymple 

windows, created the impression that the house was 
guarded by a strong force. In the yard Tallmadge 
and Paul, with a few men, had had a stiff fight to 
save the horses from being stampeded. Now they 
were safe, and Tallmadge rushed into the room, 
closely followed by Paul. 

“ I surrender,” said the leader, sullenly. 

“Cease firing,” said Tallmadge. “All who have 
not run off are prisoners. I’ll take care of this fel- 
low.” He motioned to a couple of privates, who 
deftly bound him. 

Elizabeth had withdrawn to the parlor door, where, 
fascinated by the struggle, she had remained, not even 
crying out. The host and his wife had gone up-stairs 
to assist in the defense, and she would have been 
alone, had it not been for her small bridesmaid. The 
child had fled to her with the first shot, and Elizabeth 
hid the little curly head in her dress and pressed the 
trembling body so close to hers that the brave baby 
was persuaded into a sobbing but comforted plight. 

The rector laid down his musket and resumed his 
position. Robert went to Elizabeth and took her by 
one hand and his small sister by the other. 

“ Don’t cry, Tootsie. Come, Bess, we’d better fin- 
ish this right quick. You’re not hurt, are you ? ” 

“ No, Robert.” 

“ Go on,” said Robert, again. 

[ 358 ] 


It Was Worth It 


“ I pronounce you man and wife, and what God 
hath joined together let not man put asunder. Dearly 

beloved ” he stretched out his hands, and uttered 

a brief benediction. 

“My wife!” said Robert. He pressed her lips. 
The defending party came down-stairs and swarmed 
about them, uttering congratulations. 

“Mrs. Dalrymple, I wish you much happiness.” 
Tallmadge bowed deeply over her hand. “ Rob, this 
has made us lose time. We’ll have to get out right 
away. The horses are ready.” 

“ You shall not go without at least a glass of wine,” 
said the host. He led the way to the dining-room 
and said : “ To the bride ! ” 

“ Who attacked us ? ” asked Elizabeth, as the com- 
pany partook of sandwiches. 

“ A party of Refugees,” replied Tallmadge. “ Their 
leader in there is a man by the name of Wynne. He 
affected to remain neutral, but had his property 
seized by the British last summer, and ever since then 
he has been at the head of a lawless gang terrorizing 
the country and making attacks on both the British 
and the Americans. We have made a good catch.” 

« We must be off,” said Robert. “ We have prisoners 
to escort and our progress to the ferry will be a trifle 
hampered.” 

Speedy adieux were made. Robert’s mother brought 

[ 359 ] 


Dalrymple 

out a fine white silk scarf and put it over Elizabeth’s 
shoulders, saying : “ It is getting late, my dear, and 
you must be protected from the night air on the water. 
This was one of my own wedding gifts, and now I 
give it to the first bride in the family. Take good 
care of her, my son.” 

“ I will, mother. Good-bye. You are perfectly 
safe here now. We have captured the leader and 
three men, and the rest have fled. We are ready to go, 
Tallmadge.” 

The wedding party flocked out onto the veranda. 
“ This is all too brief,” said the host. “ You are to 
come again and stay until we all know each other 
better.” 

“ With pleasure,” replied Robert, as he assisted 
Elizabeth to mount. “ I’m a married man now, and I 
can’t have another party like this, but I flatter myself 
this was a pleasant surprise to all concerned, with the 
exception of the unwilling guests who go with us.” 

Every one was in the saddle, and with parting sa- 
lutes echoed from all they were off at a smart trot. 
As they rode out into the path apart from the high- 
way Paul came alongside of Robert and Elizabeth. 

‘‘ They’ve had time to find out,” he said. 

“ I wonder if Alice has got there yet ? ” said Eliza- 
beth. “ I feel guilty about breaking my word to 
her.” 

[36o] 


It Was Worth It 


“ I don’t think you broke it. You said you would 
start in time, and you certainly did.” 

“ And Aunt Eliza didn’t start early enough, and she 
has missed the show. Oh, what fits she is having by 
this time ! ” 

“ There is no doubt that our flight is known now,” 
said Robert. “ We must make the ferry without loss 
of time, and we have to go more slowly on account of 
these men we are taking along. We have bagged a 
pretty good lot for one night, one bride and five prison- 
ers of war.” 

“ How dare you name me with them, sir ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s like enumerating the impedimenta of a 
baggage train. You’ve traveled with an army before, 
Bess.” 

They cantered merrily along. Every one was in 
high spirits, and they laughed and jested gaily. Paul 
broke out into a song, but was instantly and sternly 
checked by Tallmadge, who threatened to gag him if 
he opened his mouth again. 

" We are to dine with the Chief, Bess,” said 
Robert, “ as soon as we can arrange to get to him. 
We will spend the time of my furlough at head- 
quarters.” 

Tallmadge came alongside. “ I’m going to ride 
ahead to the last picket, and see if the way is clear to 
the ferry. The man in our rear has just come up and 


Dalrymple 

told me that no one is coming yet, but of course we’re 
not safe until we are actually in the boat. We will 
let Sam go at the ferry. He can foot it to Hew 
Utrecht and take the carriage back with the story. 
Keep an eye out, Eob.” He galloped off. 

Paul had fallen behind. Eobert drew his horse 
close to Elizabeth’s, and laid his hand over hers on 
the bridle. “ Dearest, at last you are mine. Do you 
remember the last time we met and parted ? ” 

“ Can I ever forget it ! ” 

“ Thank God, you are my wife now. The whole 
British army shall not take you from me.” 

It was nearly eleven o’clock. The late moon was 
rising, and her elongated orb showed pallidly through 
the fog that seemed to emanate from the ground. 
Elizabeth’s white dress showed on the horse in a faint 
blur. Eobert tenderly drew the silken scarf closer 
about her shoulders. “ Are you chilled ? ” 

“Ho.” 

“We are not more than a mile away. It will not 
take us long to cross the river, and then we will go 
home together.” The last word came in a vibrant 
whisper. Elizabeth trembled with delicious fear. He 
was leaning towards her for a kiss, when he suddenly 
straightened himself in the saddle, and at the same 
instant she caught the swift gallop of hoofs behind 
them. Paul came thundering up. 

[362J 


It Was Worth It 


“ Bun ! Eun ! Peter is coming ! ” 

“ Bring Ben back ! ” cried Eobert, and Paul shot by 
them like a whirlwind. “ Julia,” said Eobert, “ ride 
here by Mrs. Dalrymple, and keep your mouth shut. 
No screaming. Whip up, Bess. Close in back there ! ” 
The men obeyed instantly, and Eobert rode forward 
and urged all to a gallop. Scarcely had he done so 
when Paul and Tallmadge returned, riding at break- 
neck speed. 

“ To the boat ! ” shouted Tallmadge, ordering three 
men by name. “ Sam, if you will go and help at the 
boat I will let you go.” 

“ ’Deed I will, Marse Tallmadge, thankee.” 

“ Eide like the devil, all of you ! We’re in for it 
now.” 

“It’s less than a mile,” said Eobert, “ and ” 

A shout came to them. In the distance was the 
thud of horses at a record breaking speed. Again the 
hallooing of men’s voices reached them. 

“ See to the prisoners, Ben,” said Eobert. “ I’ll take 
care of the women. Bess ! Julia ! Stay here on 
each side of me. Now ride ! ” He struck all three 
horses with his whip, and they fairly jumped for- 
ward. 

But the chase was closing in on them. Peter’s 
voice was now distinctly heard. “ Stop ! Stop ! ” he 
yelled as never he had yelled before. 

[363] 


Dalrymple 

“ Don’t be frightened,” said Robert. “ They won’t 
shoot.” 

“ I won’t go back.” 

“ Steady in the saddle,” said Robert. “Now!” 
The astonished horses broke into a mad gallop, and 
the whole cavalcade swept over the ground pounding 
the earth at a gait that lessened the distance between 
them and the pursuers. Elizabeth bent forward over 
her horse’s neck and in a strange exultation gave her- 
self fully up to the excitement of the flight. The 
rush of the night air, the flying procession of the 
ghostly trees, the chorus of the hoofs, thrilled her 
gloriously. She throbbed exultingly. To ride like 
this ! And Robert by her ! Ah, they would escape ! 
She pressed her hand firmly on the neck of her mount 
in delightful confidence. 

“We are gaining,” said Robert. “ Only a few min- 
utes more.” 

“Come on!” shouted Tallmadge. “The boat is 
ready ! ” 

The pursuing hoofs came closer behind them. Be- 
fore them lay the river and they could see the men 
who had been sent on ahead holding the boat. 
“ Come ! ” cried Tallmadge again. He jumped off of 
his horse, ran to the boat and hustled the prisoners 
into it. “Sam, we have to leave the horses. Take 
care of them, will you ? ” 

[364] 


It Was Worth It 


“Yes, Marse Tallmadge.” 

“Stop! Stop! Bess!” Peter and Barrington 
were almost on their heels, the sweat-covered flanks 
of their horses showing the rate at which they had 
traveled. 

“ For God’s sake, stop ! ” It was another voice. 

“Barrington, by Jove!” cried Robert. “Jump, 
Bess ! ” She touched the ground lightly and ran to 
the boat, closely followed by Julia. Robert was the 
last one in. 

“ Push off, men ! ” cried Tallmadge. 

The muffled dip of the oars bore the little craft out 
on the river. Peter and Barrington, shouting with 
all their might, jumped off and rushed towards the 
beach. Peter’s hat had fallen off, and in the moon- 
light his face showed ghastly white. He threw out 
his arms beseechingly, and fairly wailed. “ Bess ! 
Come back ! It’s all right. Oh, don’t go ! ” In his 
distraction he almost fell into the water. Barrington 
held him back. 

“ It’s too late,” he said. 

From the boat, now rapidly slipping away, came a 
melodious gale of laughter, and above it rose Eliza- 
beth’s voice. She stood up and waved an end of the 
scarf at him. 

“Good-bye, Uncle Peter. You didn’t start soon 
enough ! ” 


[365] 


T)alrymple 

“ For God’s sake, forgive me ! ” The only answer 
vouchsafed was a roar of masculine voices, as the 
boat sped towards the Jersey shore. 

“You’ll take cold, Peter,” said Barrington. “Bet- 
ter come home.” 

Paul was convulsed. “ Oh, I can see him riding 
back, tears slopping down into his boots and cursing 
himself for a fool ! ” 

Tallmadge was mopping his eyes. “ This beats a 
death-bed repentance all hollow.” 

“Well, I’ll choose Barrington to chase me,” said 
Robert. “ This is the second time, and I can beat 
him running.” 

“ Is it all over ? ” asked Paul. “ It’s been such a 
jolly scrape I’d like to begin all over again. Wouldn’t 
you, Bess ? ” 

Elizabeth slipped her hand into Robert’s under 
cover of the friendly scarf. “ Yes, if the end were to 
be the same.” 

“ It is an end which is a beginning,” said Robert, 
clearly. “Paul, go thou and do likewise. It was 
worth it. Julia, what is the matter ? ” 

The girl had been leaning over the side of the boat, 
looking down into the water, unheeding the flow of ^ 
mirth around her. She sat up and addressed herself 
directly to Robert. 

“ ’Deed, thar ain’ nuffln’ the matter with me, Marse 

[366] 


It Was Worth It 


Robert. I done give Sam a message for dat Adolph, 
an’ I reckon he give it to him.” She resumed the 
contemplation of her image in the water. 

The muffled oars bore them swiftly towards the 
Jersey shore. 



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Appendix 


NOTES 

My principal authority for the historical basis of this romance is 
“Recollections of the Jersey Prison Ship,” by Capt. Thomas Dring, 
of Providence, R. I. Captain Dring was a prisoner on board the 
Jersey , and the “ Recollections ” were prepared for publication from 
his original manuscript. At the age of sixty-six, being in good 
health and with unimpaired faculties, he wrote the notes from which 
the book was subsequently compiled, and the accuracy of his account 
is verified beyond the possibility of dispute, being especially corrobo- 
rated by the other memoirs and memoranda left on the subject, though 
none of them enter into the detail of Captain Dring’s narrative. I 
have taken but one liberty with history in this story, and that is of 
representing the Jersey as being used as a prison ship as early in the 
Revolution as 1776, when the earliest date set is 1778, and there is 
little doubt that she was not a prison ship until 1781 or 1782, when 
she was so used to the close of the war. — As my chief design in this 
little story was to use the almost unknown theme of the prison ships, 
the locality would naturally be New York City, and as the principal 
events of the closing years of the Revolution were in the South, I 
simply antedated the use of the Jersey in the Wale Bogt in order to 
avoid covering a wider field than necessary. In every detail, however, 
I have aimed at accuracy, and, so far as life on the Jersey is concerned, 
the reader may rest assured that its horrors have been necessarily 
softened in order to bring the story within the pale of general reading. 
The brutal frankness of Captain Dring’s narrative is not suited to 
modern literature, and the study of details was a terrible and revolt- 
ing task, sweetened only by one thought — thank God, they died for 
Liberty ! 


[369] 


Appendix 

Note — Chapter IY 

The exact number of prisoners who died on board the Jersey , the 
Good Hope, Scorpion , Hunter and others is not accurately determined, 
but is probably not less than eleven thousand. The Jersey was the 
largest and best known of these prison ships, and her very name was 
a synonym for terror. It is said that the mortality on board of the 
Jersey was greater in proportion to the number of souls than has ever 
been recorded of any other prison in the world. Captain Dring, in 
his narrative, relates that as he and his unfortunate companions were 
being rowed out to the Jersey , David Sproat, the hated commissary of 
naval prisoners, pointed to the Jersey , and said, exultingly : “There, 
rebels, there is the cage for you.” 


Note — Chapter YI 

The great bulk of prisoners confined in the British prison ships were 
seamen, many of them being captured in the merchant service or the 
coasting trade. The men were constantly offered their freedom, rank 
and honors, if they would desert the “rebel” cause and join the 
King’s army, but it is stated in every memoir I have been able to find 
that only one ever thus deserted. He was followed from the ship by 
the groans, curses and imprecations of his companions who chose to 
remain. Washington’s correspondence with the British Admiral on 
the subject of the exchange of the prisoners throws a sad light on the 
difficulties he encountered. 


Note— Chapter IX 

In this chapter I have closely followed Captain Dring’s account of a 
Fourth of July celebration on board the Jersey. 


Note — Chapter X 

The tortures of a night without water and with an inadequate sup- 
ply of air have been made familiar by the accounts of the Black Hole 
of Calcutta, and that night is the only parallel in history to the one 
spent by the prisoners on board the Jersey when they were driven 

[370] 


Appendix 

below at sunset on the evening of the Fourth of July. In the Black 
Hole of Calcutta one hundred and forty -six persons were shut up at 
night, and only twenty-three were alive in the morning, but the space 
they occupied was only twenty feet square. There were about a 
thousand men on the Jersey , and only ten died that night, but the 
space they occupied was much larger, the circulation of air better, and 
there was a limited supply of water. — Nevertheless, the horror and 
suffering of the night on the Jersey seemed even greater to me than 
the one in which the mortality was larger, for many more individuals 
suffered. 


Note — Chapter XI 

Cunningham was executed in England for forgery several years after 
the Revolution. Before his death he made a full confession of his 
many crimes, including his cruelties to the American prisoners in 
New York City, and confessed that he had executed many at his own 
pleasure and without orders, and had caused the death of hundreds of 
others by feeding them on polluted and decaying food while he pock- 
eted the gains he stole from the appropriation for the prisoners. His 
name is universally detested, both in England and the United States. 


Note — Chapter XV 

This chapter is based on Captain Dring’s account of an attempt to 
escape. All memoirs unite in saying that no clergyman or priest was 
ever on board, and that no attempt at religious service of any kind 
was made, save a few addresses by a layman. If a prayer was ever 
uttered on board, there is no record of it. 


Note — Chapters XYIII and XIX 

The portions of these chapters describing the Mischianza are drawn 
from the only account ever written of it, the one left by Andre. — 
Although the scene may be familiar to some readers, I chose to use it 
with full credit to the original author, on whose description one 
might not hope to improve. 




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